Infinite Variations
by someone.else.before
Summary: "There's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened." What if the Demogorgon never came to Hawkins? What if Will never disappeared? Mike and Eleven find each other in a different way - through the radio, and through dreams.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note:_ _So I know that a lot of people have asked for another installment in the Secret Crush universe... and this is very much not that. I'm sorry if anybody is disappointed :( but I wanted to explore something a little different this time. I love you guys a lot and I really hope that you enjoy this story. Please review and let me know what you think. :)_

Chapter One: The Non-Disappearance of Will Byers

"Don't turn away from it this time," Papa told her right before she sank down into the Bath, the lukewarm water surrounding her body, the rest of the world falling away from her as they shut the door tight.

Eleven always tried to do what she was told. It was the most important rule and the best way to make sure she wasn't sent to the Room.

Of course, Papa hardly ever sent her to the Room these days, not since she had gotten strong enough to knock down those guards. Papa said it was a bad thing that she had done, hurting those men, that most little girls who did a thing like that would taken away from their papas and punished forever, but that because she was important to the Project, he would protect her as long as she was a good girl and did what he asked.

She didn't know what the Project was, exactly, only that it had been going on for a very long time, and never seemed to end, and that it made her Papa and the men who visited him very excited. There were always new tests for her to do. When she did well, her Papa would smile and say Well Done Eleven, and she would think maybe it was over now, but it never was. There was always another test.

Right now, the test seemed to have to do with finding the strange creature she had discovered a few days ago in the Bath. Whatever this thing was, it frightened her so much that she almost refused to comply with her Papa's directions. She was rarely sure of anything - the world was so confusing, and so little was ever explained - but she was sure that nothing good could come of contacting this creature. Her Papa said it couldn't hurt her, but it was so big, and strange, and hungry, in a way that Papa just didn't understand.

It felt wrong to think there were things Papa didn't understand. A year or two ago, the idea would never have occurred to her. But she had recently come to the conclusion that there were, in fact, things he did not know. Otherwise, why would he send her to the Bath to listen to strange men in heavy coats? Why would he ask her all those questions about what she saw in her dreams?

Eleven felt the darkness spread out around her and listened for the harsh, raspy breathing of the creature. When she located it, she felt a shiver go up her spine. It was even more disturbing than she had remembered. She saw its silhouette in the grey distance and approached it hesitantly, ignoring the terror that had begun to build in her stomach.

She was just a few feet from the creature now, and remembering her Papa's instruction, she dutifully reached out her hand, hoping that once she touched whatever it was, the test would be over and Papa would smile and say Well Done Eleven and maybe he would help towel her hair dry before she was sent to bed.

Instead, she heard a voice come though so loud it shook her eardrums, making the creature vanish into thin air just before she reached it. "HELLO, THIS IS SCOTT CLARKE, TESTING, TESTING, ONE TWO THREE,"

She looked around, bewildered, and saw a mustachioed man in a sweater vest fiddling with the dials of some electronic device, speaking excitedly into a microphone. "I'm here in Hawkins, Indiana, and I've just turned on our new Heathkit Hamshack. Is anybody out there? Testing, testing." He tapped at the microphone. "Boy, the kids are gonna love this," he said to no one in particular.

Eleven stared at the man, bemused. He didn't look anything like the men in the lab, or the men Papa had asked her to search for before. He seemed friendly, and she wondered what he was doing and what exactly he was testing.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, so she walked towards him and tugged on his sleeve. "I'm here," she said.

He didn't notice the tug on his sleeve, but he did seem to have heard her, because he jolted forward and fiddled with the dials some more. "Hello there!" he said into the microphone. "Where are you radioing from?"

She wasn't sure what "radioing" meant, or how to explain "where" she was. "…The Bath," she said finally.

"Oh my goodness!" he said, seeming distressed. "You'll get electrocuted using a radio in the bathtub. Get out of there right away! Are your parents home?"

"My parents… home?" she repeated, confused. "I don't know. What… what is home?"

"Didn't copy that, please repeat," he said, leaning forward.

"What… is home?"

"Um, well, home is…" he began. Suddenly static filled her ears and she was blinded by bright white light. The next thing she knew she was being hauled up from the Bath, her Papa looking at her with clear and wounding disapproval.

"Eleven, didn't I ask you to remain focused?" he asked, his voice cold.

Her eyes began to fill with tears. "I… I tried, Papa."

"Maybe the Room will help you clear your head…" he said casually, sending icy fear racing down her spine.

"No, no Papa, please, let me try again, I'll do better next time, I'll find it, please don't send me away…" she began to babble excuses, even as her knees nearly buckled from exhaustion.

He smiled slightly. "Well, tomorrow, you will try harder, won't you?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yes papa, yes."

* * *

A few miles away, Mike Wheeler waved goodbye to his friends and mourned the end of another glorious weekend of comic books and Dungeons and Dragons. He'd planned the campaign out so perfectly - it was probably one of his best - but thanks to his mother and the fact that it was a school night, they'd had to wrap up just when the story was getting good. He hadn't even gotten a chance to bring out the Demogorgon.

He looked up at the night sky, dawdling for a moment before he was forced to return inside to the crushingly boring reality of life in the Wheeler house. When he was with his friends, he felt like he could be anyone, could create worlds out of thin air, but when he was at school or with his family, he felt boxed in, trapped. He wasn't Mike the storyteller, Mike the dungeon master, but instead Mike the science geek, the perfect son, the dorky younger brother. No wonder he spent more time in the basement with his friends than anywhere else these days.

Will Byers rode his bike past Hawkins National Laboratory almost every single day without giving a single thought to what might be happening inside, and tonight was no exception. He was simply too busy enjoying the cool November air on his face, mentally rehashing the day's campaign. He wondered if Mike really was going to bring out the Demogorgon. He never was able to resist adding in a plot twist at the end.

Will pedaled slowly through the woods, imagining what it might be like to actually be a wizard. He'd like to throw a fireball or two at Troy, the bully at school who always bothered them and called him queer. He pictured Troy with his hair and eyebrows singed off and chuckled to himself.

When he reached his house, all the lights were out and there was no sign of his brother or his mom. He sighed and rolled his eyes. They must have both taken extra shifts and forgotten to tell each other, again. He let himself in and turned on all the lights, suddenly finding the darkness creepy.

Will put on the mixtape Jonathan had made for him and poured himself a bowl of cereal while he sang along to the music.

 _So you gotta let me know_

 _Should I stay or should I go_

He smiled as he munched on his cereal. Music - especially the music Jonathan gave him - always helped when he was home alone. A house as old as the Byers' always made creaking, squeaking noises at night, and Will had a nervous temperament, tending to interpret every odd sound as a potential home invader or poltergeist. So loud, pounding music actually helped drown out the quiet, so he could stay calm while he waited for his mom or his brother to return.

He turned up the volume another few notches and lay down on the couch, letting his eyes drift closed as he snuggled under a blanket. _They'll be home soon._

* * *

The next morning dawned cold and clear. Jim Hopper watched the sunrise over Hawkins Lake from the overlook next to his trailer. He had been out here for an hour already. Sunrises used to make him feel something, fill him with a sense of - if not optimism, at least some sort of perspective, some freedom from his petty little life. But lately, he just felt numb most of the time. Maybe it's the pills, he thought to himself dully as he stared at the colors filling the sky.

He finished his cigarette and re-entered his trailer to get ready for work, going through the motions until his head began to clear.

He studied his figure in the mirror, his tired eyes and five-o-clock shadow contrasting unpleasantly with his shiny badge and sheriff's hat. He cringed at his shabby appearance.

 _Hawkin's finest_ , he thought sardonically, not for the first or last time.

* * *

"Where the hell are they?" Joyce Byers muttered as she scoured her living room for her car keys. "Jonathan?"

"Check the couch!" her son exclaimed, keeping an eye on the scrambled eggs he was cooking as he glanced over to her bag on the kitchen counter, checking to see if he could spot the missing keys.

"Got them!" Joyce crowed, rushing into the kitchen to give Jonathan a goodbye kiss. "Okay, sweetie, I will see you tonight." She looked around the room in confusion. "Where's Will?"

Jonathan shrugged, scooping the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. "I didn't get him up yet, he's probably still sleeping."

"Jonathan! You have to make sure he's up!" Joyce said, rolling her eyes.

"Mom, I'm making breakfast," Jonathan said defensively.

"I've told you this a thousand times," she muttered as she rushed to her youngest son's bedroom.

"Will, come on honey, it's time to get up!" she called, barging into Will's room and clapping her hands.

Will jolted out of bed, sleepy-eyed. "It's morning already?" He mumbled, wiping his mouth.

Joyce smiled and mussed his hair. "I'm off to work, honey. Have a great day at school. Oh, and Jonathan made breakfast, so get up and eat some before it gets cold."

"Okay, Mom. Love you!" he said. She grinned and shut the door, leaving him to groan in exhaustion and struggle out of bed, staring blankly at his closet. He had a feeling he was going to be late for school.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas arrived at school at around the same time, and they scoured the playground for a sign of Will.

"That's weird, I don't see him," Mike said, sounding worried. "I hope he got home okay last night."

Lucas shrugged. "He's probably just running late. Or he went to class early again."

"Yeah, he's always paranoid Gersky's gonna give him another pop quiz," chuckled Dustin.

A tall, gangly boy with a mean smile approached them. "Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show!"

Mike rolled his eyes. Troy. Was this mouth-breather ever going to leave them alone?

"Who do you think would make more money in a freak show?" Troy asked his friend James, who chuckled. "Midnight?" He said, punching Lucas in the arm. "Frogface?" he punched Mike. "or Toothless." He punched Dustin extra hard, making him wince.

James studied them coldly. "I go with toothleth," he declared, faking a lisp much to Troy's amusement and Dustin's frustration.

"I told you a million times, my teeth are coming in. It's called Cleidocranial Dysplasia," explained Dustin.

"I thold you a million thimes" mocked James, laughing.

Suddenly, Will approached them, glaring at James and Troy. "Hey, guys, cut it out."

Mike smiled at Will despite himself. Byers was smaller than any of them by far, but he always had a way of sticking up for people. Mike admired him for that.

"Did you hear something, James?" asked Troy, smirking. "I think I heard a fairy talking to me."

Will fumed, turning red, but kept silent. For years the bullies had picked on him for his small size or for his mom's reputation, but ever since he'd won a drawing contest at school, he'd been subject to a whole new genre of insults.

James played along. "Really? What'd it say?"

"I don't know, I don't speak queer," Troy snickered.

"Why don't you leave us alone?" Dustin said, trying not to let his voice waver.

"Sure, toothless. But first… do the arm thing," Troy told him, looking for one last opportunity to humiliate them before the bell rang.

Dustin looked down at the ground, defeated. He shoved off his jacket and dropped his backpack on the ground. Quickly, he bent his arms inward in front of him until his elbows cracked.

The bullies reacted with disgusted amusement. "Ugh! Gets me every time!" Troy said as he shoved the boys aside, done humiliating them for the moment. James followed behind, running into Will with so much force the boy almost fell over.

"Assholes," Lucas muttered when they were out of earshot.

Mike helped Dustin get his backpack on again. He smiled slightly, trying to make his friend feel better. "I think it's kinda cool, it's like we have superpowers or something. Like Mr. Fantastic."

Dustin chuckled. "Yeah, except I can't fight evil with it."

They sighed, each imagining a scenario in which they would actually be able to stand up to the bullies. With that, they entered the school building.

* * *

When Nancy Wheeler's best friend Barb asked her what was going on with that boy Steve Harrington, Nancy had been dismissive - trying to play it off as a simple make out session - but when she found a note from Steve slipped into her locker, she felt an undeniable thrill. She ignored Barb's amused eye-roll and checked her appearance in the mirror of her locker, her pulse already racing at the thought of seeing him again.

She shooed Barb away, then walked downstairs to the basement bathroom, the one that was rarely used. She looked around with trepidation, then darted into the men's room, praying that Steve - and no one else - would be in there.

To her relief, she was greeted by his disarming smile, his warm hands already reaching around to help free her from her book bag.

She looked up into his eyes as her books clattered to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space. God, he was even handsomer than she remembered. How was that possible?

He pushed her up against the cold tiled wall, and she shivered, biting her lip. "What are you doing?" she asked, coyly.

"What's it look like?" he said, smirking before he leaned down and put his mouth on hers. She melted into the kiss, something about his lips and hands and the smell of his cologne making her head go fuzzy. She hadn't been planning to let him kiss her senseless in a high school men's room - she was definitely not that kind of girl - but Steve Harrington had a way of making her want to throw away all her plans, no matter how carefully she had mapped them out beforehand.

Still, she was aware of time passing, and knew that the school day would start in a matter of minutes. She broke away, trying not to sound too breathless. "Steve, I have to go," she murmured. He didn't seem to hear her, capturing her lips in another kiss. Distantly, she heard the bell ring, and she pulled away to check her watch. Shit.

"Steve, I really, like seriously, I have to go," she told him, squirming reluctantly out of his reach.

With a stubbornness that she was beginning to learn was characteristic of him, he grabbed her bag and began to wheedle his way into her evening plans.

She was torn - she really did need to study for the Chem test, but his charming banter was hard to resist, as much as she pretended to be annoyed by it.

He pulled her close again and ran his hands lightly over her arms, making her shiver as her stomach erupted with butterflies.

"Wait, wait, wait, okay, forget about that," he murmured, since she had turned down his ridiculous offer to sneak into her house, "we can just, like, chill in my car, find a nice quiet place to park, and.."

She cut him off, trying to look stern. "Steve, I have to study. I'm not kidding."

The look on his face told her that the "stern face" hadn't worked as intended. In fact, he seemed to find it cute. He cracked a devilish smile. "Well, why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?"

She rolled her eyes, almost at a loss for words at his ridiculous persistence. "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington."

He sighed, and the desire and frustration in his eyes sent a thrill up her spine. "Meet me at Dearborn and Maple, at 8," she told him.

He grinned with victory, and she rolled her eyes.

"To study," she reminded him, trying not to smile back.

* * *

Chief Hopper arrived at the station and was greeted, as usual, by the good-natured ribbing of his colleagues and the clucking disapproval of his secretary.

Flo took away his cigarette - those things will kill you, and it's a bad example for the town - and began to attempt to guilt him into doing his job.

"While you were drinking or sleeping or whatever it is you deem so necessary on Monday morning, Phil Larson called, said some kids are stealing the gnomes out of his garden again," she reported.

The chief scoffed and grabbed a donut from his deputy's desk. "Oh, those garden gnomes again? Well, I'll tell you what, I'm gonna get right on that," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. As far as he was concerned, any man who made the incomprehensible decision to cover his lawn with those creepy-ass gnomes deserved whatever he got. But apparently, being police chief meant these kind of things were his problem now.

Flo ignored the remark, continuing from her to-do list. "Also, with the cold weather coming on, the Mayor's office asked if we could put out a public service announcement about the dangers of hypothermia."

He groaned with frustration as he filled up his favorite mug with piping hot coffee from the office pot. "If people in this town are so stupid they'll decide to wander into the woods and freeze their asses off, then there's nothing we can do to stop them," he quipped.

"Nevertheless, the Mayor asked that we help his office come up with some concrete steps to prevent…"

"Flo, Flo, listen, we've discussed this. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation."

"But Chief!"

"Coffee. And. Contemplation." He repeated. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, deciding not to fight this particular battle this morning.

He closed the door to his office, settling in at his desk and savoring the first sip from his mug. Flo could be irritating sometimes, but he had to admit this place would never run without her. And she made damn good coffee.

* * *

In the morning they brought Eleven to the lab again, with the same instructions as before.

 _Find it. Reach out. Make contact._

And she tried. She really did. She peered into the darkness, searching, full of trepidation. But instead of finding a hulking creature with grey skin, she found four gangly boys huddled around some sort of machine, talking into it excitedly. She recognized it as the radio she had seen yesterday.

"Hello, this is Mike Wheeler, president of Hawkins Middle A.V. Club!" one of the boys shouted into the microphone. "What are you doing?" he giggled as another boy took over.

"Hello, this is Dustin Henderson, secretary-treasurer of Hawkins Middle AV Club, do you eat kangaroos for breakfast?"

El looked at the boys curiously. She'd never seen anyone like them. The one named My-kweeler had called himself the President, but he didn't look anything like the Presidents she remembered learning about. He had the darkest, shiniest hair she'd ever seen, and funny spots all over his face, like stars. He laughed at the other boy who had spoken, the one called Dust-in-ender-sin. This boy had curly hair and a really wide smile.

"Hello… uh… I mean, g'day mates!" said another boy, grabbing the microphone. His hair was short like hers, but his skin was much darker than the others.

"Well, I'll leave you boys to it," the mustached man said with a kind smile. "Just don't be late for your next class, and lock the door when you leave."

The three boys who had already spoken barely acknowledged him, too caught up in playing with whatever machine was allowing her to make contact with them. The fourth boy, the smallest, who hung back from the others and had limp brown hair hanging in his huge eyes, looked up at the man and grinned. "Thanks, Mr. Clarke."

El was surprised by the interaction, to say the least. This man seemed like he might be their Papa - he was bigger and taller, and he was giving them instructions. But the boys didn't seem very concerned with him - didn't seem frightened of him at all. And he wasn't angry with their response - instead, he smiled fondly and closed the door, leaving the field of her vision.

Maybe it was because one of them was the President? But Papa had showed her a picture of the President once, and he was an old man with tan skin and short hair. _"This is our president, Eleven," Papa had said. "He is the most powerful man in the world. Everything we do here is to help protect him, and protect the country and the Free World."_

 _"What is a Free World?" she had asked._

 _"It is all the places where the Bad Men are not in charge. The Bad Men hate freedom and they hate the President. That's why we have to find them, and listen to their plans, so we can stop them before they hurt us. Do you understand?"_

 _"Yes, Papa,"_

 _"Remember, the Bad Men are always looking for you, because they want to use you as a weapon. They would torture you and make you do horrible things. This is why we must keep you hidden. Do you understand?"_

 _"Yes, Papa."_

But this boy did not look like the president she had seen, or anything like the most powerful person in the world. He seemed friendly, full of happy energy that made her smile without even realizing it. She knew that her Papa would be angry that she had once again failed to complete the experiment, but somehow, she couldn't force herself to break the connection with this warm room full of laughter to go searching for a monster.

* * *

"Come on guys, be serious," sighed Will.

"We are being serious, Byers!" Dustin objected.

Mike rolled his eyes and tapped the microphone again, making a muffled pounding sound. "Is anyone listening? Hello, please respond."

He waited for a minute or two, then frowned in defeat. "I don't think it works."

Suddenly a voice came through the speakers - strange, distorted, but recognizable. A girl's voice, with an accent they couldn't place.

"What is… kangaroos?"


	3. Chapter 3

_What is… kangaroos?"_

The voice coming through the radio was quiet and echo-y, almost like it was coming from underwater. Still, Mike and his friends shouted in victory.

"We got someone!" exclaimed Dustin, elbowing Lucas excitedly.

"I heard," Lucas commented, always ready to roll his eyes at Dustin's tendency to state the obvious. "But what kind of weirdo doesn't know what a kangaroo is?"

"Maybe she lives in Alaska or something," Mike said. He tapped the microphone again, and instantly cringed at the feedback in his headphones.

"Hello, this is Mike again. You don't know what a kangaroo is?" He waited for a response, but heard only static. "It's an animal, they live in Australia."

"It's a marsupial," Dustin shouted into the mic.

Will sighed. "I'm not sure that's going to help, Dustin."

"What? It's true," Dustin said stubbornly.

Will grabbed the mic and cleared his throat nervously. "Hi, this is Will Byers? Um, a kangaroo carries its babies in a pouch on its body. And it hops around, I guess."

After a few moments of static, the voice returned. "Like a bunny?" the girl whispered.

"Yeah, kinda," Will said. "Only way bigger, and they live in the Australian Outback."

"Oh," she said.

Mike suspected that she didn't know what the Outback was either.

"I do _not_ eat them," she told them, sounding a little disgusted.

Mike cut in, trying to set the record straight. "No, we know, it was just a joke. Dustin was kidding, right Dustin?" He waved the other boy over to the mic.

"Yeah, um, of course you don't eat kangaroos. Nobody does - well, unless you were starving, I guess. They probably taste gross… well I guess I wouldn't know, I've never had one, but you know, just looking at them… plus they're endangered I think, so um, that would be bad…"

Mike rolled his eyes and pushed Dustin away from the radio again.

"Endangered?" she asked.

"Somebody get this girl a dictionary," Lucas muttered to Mike, who ignored him.

"It means, they're in trouble. They might, like, disappear someday, if we don't help," Mike said. The school had recently had a save-the-elephants bake sale, so they all knew the basic concept.

"What's your name?" Mike asked suddenly, before she could ask another question. "And where are you from?"

Eleven felt a pressure in her temples warning her that her handlers had opened the hatch to her bath and were preparing to raise her out of it. Light began to flood through her mindscape, blurring the voices and figures of the boys. Without even making a conscious decision to do so, she nodded slightly and used her powers to pull the hatch closed again, sealing it tight. She was vaguely aware of the panicked yells of the workers outside the tank, but she blocked them out and focused on the boys, bringing them back to the front of her mind.

"My name is Eleven," she said.

The boys looked at each other with trepidation.

"Like the number?" asked Mike.

She had never felt unhappy with her name before, but their expressions and the confusion in Mike's voice made her suddenly self-conscious. She nodded, then whispered, "Yes."

"This is freaking me out," Lucas said, frowning.

"Is… is it bad?" she asked them, her voice trembling slightly.

Mike shook his head rapidly, making his hair fall in his eyes. "No, of course not. Just different." He smiled. "Eleven. I like it."

Something about his smile made her feel… different. Warm, happy… dizzy? She didn't know how to describe it to herself, so she tried to ignore it.

Will looked at his watch. "It's almost the end of free period, guys," he said. "We've gotta go."

"Shit," said Lucas. "I've got a History test."

"So do we," grumbled Dustin, gesturing at Will. "Come on, guys."

Mike still sat at the console. "You go ahead," he told his friends. "I'll lock up."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "Wish us luck," he said.

Mike turned back to the microphone after the other boys had gone. "Hey Eleven, are you still there?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, although her voice was edged in static.

He jiggled his leg up and down, running his hand through his hair. He had very much wanted to keep talking to this mysterious girl, but now that he was alone, he almost felt shy. Plus, he had his own class to get to.

"Do you like Star Wars?" he blurted out, regretting the words almost as soon as they were spoken. _Great, Wheeler. Now she'll know exactly how much of a nerd you are._

To his relief, she didn't laugh at him outright, but her response was still extremely perplexing.

"I don't know. What is it?"

He cocked his head. A kid might not know about kangaroos, or endangered species, but everybody knew Star Wars. Even the jocks and popular kids at his school had at least _heard_ of it.

 _"_ The movie, you know, _Star Wars_?" he repeated, incredulous. "With the Jedi knights, and Yoda and stuff?"

"Oh," Eleven said. Mike could somehow tell that she had no clue what he was talking about.

He attempted to give her a brief summary of the plot, but of course this turned into the beginning of a long, excited rehashing of the entire movie, which was only interrupted by the ringing of the bell.

Mike sighed, cutting himself off. "Hey, Eleven? I'm sorry, but I have to go. I have class."

"Okay," she said sadly. She could already feel the strain of keeping the world of the lab locked out. The technicians were trying to manually open the visual shields surrounding the tank, and each crack of light made focusing on the boy more difficult.

"But, I'll be on this frequency again tomorrow, so maybe we can talk again?" he said. The hope in his voice was unmistakable, and it made her smile despite the pain in her head.

"Bye, Mike," she said, as her mental blocks failed and she sagged sideways inside the tank.

The static was so sudden and so loud that it made Mike jump backwards in surprise. He turned off the machine and carefully jotted the frequency down in his notebook. Sighing, he grabbed the keys from the hook by the light switch and locked the door behind him. He slid the keys under Mr. Clarke's office door and rushed off to class.

* * *

The first thing Eleven saw when she awoke from her trance was her Papa's face distorted with rage. The first thing she felt was his hand slapping her cheek, hard.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at him, guilt and fear making her nauseous. "Papa?" she whispered, but he refused to look at her. Instead he gripped her hand so hard that she thought the bones would break. He pulled her behind him, quickly leaving behind the room full of men in white coats who were watching them warily. He dragged her down a familiar hallway, the one that led to the Room. Her heart pounded with fear and tears spilled past her chin, but she was too weak to object or beg or struggle.

"How dare you interfere with the experiment," he muttered angrily. "What could you have been thinking, Eleven? Don't you understand this is all for your own good? For the good of the country?"

"I know, Papa, I know…" she sobbed. "I'm scared, scared of the monster. I don't want to find it, Papa," she admitted, shaking her head desperately.

He sighed in frustration, jerking her along."I told you it couldn't hurt you, you _silly_ girl."

They reached the Room, and she dully noticed the places where the tile had cracked, evidence of her previous rebellion. Still, it didn't occur to fight her Papa when he shoved her into the Room. Good girls didn't hurt their Papa, even when he scared them.

Instead she begged for him to reconsider. "I'm sorry, papa, I'll try again. Please don't leave me, please…"

He ignored her, his eyes cold and distant. "That's what you said the last time, Eleven."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving her trapped in darkness.

Eleven sank to the ground, bringing her arms around her knees in the most comforting posture she knew. She shivered. No one had bothered to dry her off after the visit to the Bath, and goosebumps were already forming on her skin in the cold laboratory air. Patches of color swam in her vision in the pitch-black darkness.

She tried to think of something to hold in her mind, to keep her from giving in to the panic. She thought about the boys she had seen, their laughter. She thought about Mike especially. She liked how his voice had gotten soft when he'd talked to her, and the way he asked about her name. She pictured his face and immediately felt warmer, calmer. She didn't know why.

Without consciously deciding to, she opened up her mind and searched for him. It was tricky, without a photo, but at least the darkness and quiet of the room made it a little easier. She tried to hold the image of him in her thoughts.

She finally found him, sitting in a chair surrounded by other children. The noise of the room almost overwhelmed her concentration, but she redoubled her efforts, her fingernails digging into her arm until she regained control.

Many of the children were whispering to each other, while some looked forward expectantly and others slumped in their seats. Mike was hunched over some sort of book - she knew what books were, although she had owned very few - and was scribbling inside it.

A man stood in front of the children and spoke excitedly, writing feverishly on the wall. "What happens during Romeo's monologue? Can anyone tell me?"

Eleven watched as the man attempted to get some response from the children, but they mostly ignored him. Mike flipped back through the book and studied some part of it carefully, becoming absorbed in it. He nibbled on his pencil absentmindedly and Eleven wondered if it tasted good. She'd seen pencils before but no one had ever taught her how to write with one.

Mike usually liked English class, more or less. He liked the stories, the way they could create imaginary worlds in his head. He was usually content to sit towards the back and read silently to himself while the other students tried their best to avoid doing any work and the teacher tried his best to be inspiring. But every once in a while, something terrible would happen. For example, the teacher would call on Mike.

"Who would like to try reading part of this scene out loud?" asked the teacher. "These words were meant to be heard and acted out, you know, not read on a page. How about…" he pointed at Mike, who cringed and turned red. "Let's have you read Romeo's monologue here. The one that starts, "But soft…"

Several girls giggled and Mike stared down at his paper, his throat going dry. "But… but soft… whatlightthroughyonderwindowbreaksitistheeastand…" he began to read quickly, wanting to finish the humiliation as soon as possible.

"Stop, stop, _stop_ , Mr. Wheeler," the teacher said. "I know you can do better than that. It's a confession of love, not a grocery list. Give it a little feeling!" He smiled at Mike, trying to seem encouraging.

"O…okay," Mike stuttered. He took a deep breath and started again.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Her vestal livery is but sick and green

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

It is my lady, O, it is my love!

O, that she knew she were!"

Several girls giggled despite themselves, and Mike turned an even deeper shade of scarlet, but he continued bravely on.

"She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?

Her eye discourses; I will answer it.

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,

As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!"

The teacher led a round of applause as Mike sunk into his seat, proud of himself for seeing it through but still wishing he could just disappear.

"Now, can anyone tell me what Romeo is trying to express in this monologue?" the teacher asked the class.

"He wants to screw her?" a kid in the back of the class quipped. The english teacher was known for being - not a pushover exactly, but laid back - so nobody was surprised when he actually chuckled instead of sending the kid to detention for "foul language" like most teachers would have.

"Not exactly, Jason. But if you take a look at what he says…" the teacher began, trying to engage his students in the material in whatever way he could.

Mike tuned him out and stared out the window. He was pretty good at English, after spending so many summers and weekends poring over any fantasy books he could find. He didn't need to listen to the teacher's rudimentary explanation of the meaning of words like "doth." Instead, he found himself speculating about the girl from the radio. Eleven. What was her story? She seemed so strange, as if she had come from a completely different world. He tried to tell himself that she was probably some ordinary kid living hundreds of miles away, horsing around with a shortwave radio in her basement or at her school. But even though that was the most likely explanation, it didn't seem quite right.

 _"That was pretty. What does it mean?"_

The voice reverberated in his head, and he recognized it instantly. He looked around the room surreptitiously, but no one seemed to have spoken to him, and there was no one there he didn't recognize.

He didn't know how it was possible for him to have heard her. It didn't make sense. He shivered and hoped he wasn't going crazy.

Eleven saw the fear on Mike's face and regretted saying anything. He must have been confused, not expecting her to speak in his mind. She resigned herself to merely listening, watching as he went about the rest of his day.

The lessons he received were confusing, but they fascinated her all the same. They seemed to hint at worlds and realities that were far wider and more colorful than any she had imagined before.

She decided that she had misunderstood the meaning of the word "President." The children in this place didn't treat Mike like he was especially important or powerful. Many of them knocked into him in the hallways and laughed in his face. Mike didn't even seem particularly surprised by this treatment, although he did turn red and mumble things under his breath a couple times.

She found herself becoming angry on his behalf, wanting to protect him somehow. The next boy who seemed poised to slam Mike into the lockers suddenly found himself doubled over, as if he had been kicked in the gut by a mysterious force.

"You okay, man?" Mike asked with concern, seemingly unaware of the other boy's bad intentions.

Something about this gesture, the kindness in his voice, made Eleven feel hopelessly smitten. She ignored the pain in her head and the fuzziness around the edges of her vision. She followed him like a ghost until she lost the last of her strength and finally let the connection fade away, giving in to sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, in an office several stories above her prison, two men argued over the fate of the project.

"Martin, what happened in there?" demanded a man with a slight southern accent and a scowling mouth. He was a bit younger than most of the men he worked with, and he had black hair cropped short in a military style.

"I told you she was getting stronger," Dr. Brenner said harshly. "Further precautions must be taken."

" _What_ kind of precautions do you _suggest_?" The man asked rhetorically, raising his voice. "The things she can do… Christ, if you can't control her, she could turn this whole place to rubble. These episodes are putting millions of dollars of government investment in danger."

"The onset of pre-adolescence in subject 11 has brought out new challenges for our project, as we knew it would," Dr. Brenner said coldly. "Further conditioning should solve the problem."

The other man sighed. "Martin, we can't afford to keep losing staff every time she gets angry. The money we pay their families to keep quiet, it comes directly out of our budget, did you know that? And the effect on morale…"

"Have you heard the saying about omelettes and eggs?" Dr. Brenner said, dismissively.

"This isn't a goddamn cooking class!" the man exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table.

Brenner didn't flinch. "I am aware."

The other man lit a cigarette and took a deep breath, gazing out at the window. He had to admit, it was a pretty good view - dense forest that seemed to go on for miles, leaves turning rusty orange and gold - although he still preferred the offices at headquarters, the ones that looked out over the National Mall or the banks of the Potomac. He exhaled. "Look, you know I'm on your side here. It's just, maybe this is for the best."

"What are you saying, sir?" asked Brenner.

"I'm saying that the higher ups want to see results. Practical findings, actionable intel. Not reports on you fooling around looking for creatures from other dimensions."

Dr. Brenner studied the man cautiously. "Have you heard something?" he asked, disconcerted.

The man smirked. "The general is pissed at you, Martin. Everyone at headquarters knows it. Even the parking lot attendants could tell you that he's pissed."

"Fine," Dr. Brenner said, rolling up his sleeves and trying to keep from seeming defeated. "We'll pause this area of inquiry. For now. The sensory deprivation experiments can wait until her… compliance is more certain."

"Very good, Doctor," the man said approvingly. He clapped Brenner on the back, making him cringe. "I'll make sure my next report includes a commendation of your commitment to… our Department's priorities."

Brenner smiled politely, but the smile never reached his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Dinnertime at the Wheeler house was always a bit chaotic, and this night was no different. Mrs. Wheeler did most of the cooking herself, stirring and tasting while doing her best to keep her two-year-old daughter Holly entertained.

"Nancy, can I get some help in the kitchen?" she called up the stairs.

"Mom, I have a Chem test tomorrow," objected Nancy. Karen sighed. Unfortunately for Mike, he chose that moment to enter the kitchen in search of a piece of cheese, and was swiftly drafted into the cooking effort.

"So, Michael, how was school?" his mom asked as she took the chicken out of the oven, checking the temperature.

"Good," Mike said as he carefully grated some parmesan, always paranoid about catching his finger on the grater. "Mr. Clarke got a new Heathkit Hamshack for the A.V. club."

"And this Heath…Ham… thing… would be?" asked Karen, trying to keep up.

"Oh," Mike said, "It's this really cool radio."

Mrs. Wheeler put down her oven mitts and stepped out of the kitchen towards the living room. "Ted? What kind of salad dressing do you want?"

Mike had been sure that his father was completely passed out on his favorite chair, but the man was evidently partially awake. "Ranch, please," he muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Alright, dear. Dinner's almost ready," Karen said. Then she turned back to Mike. "Can you make the salad while I slice the bread?"

"Sure, mom," Mike said.

"Oh, and -" her voice went to a whisper, "use the low-fat ranch, please. We all need to start eating a little healthier around here."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

"Anyway," she said brightly, her voice returning to its normal volume, "Do you listen to music with it?"

Mike was confused. "With what?"

"The radio," Karen explained. "The… Hamkit… hamshack…"

"Oh," Mike chuckled. "No, it's not just for… it's not like a radio for music. It's more for talking to people…" he trailed off, remembering the conversation he'd had with that strange girl. "That reminds me, Mom… have you ever heard of someone having a number as their name?"

Karen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like, a person named Eleven, for instance," Mike said. He was blushing slightly, but wasn't sure why. "Do you know anyone with a name like that?"

"No…" Karen said, pulling silverware from the drawer and handing it to Mike so he could help set the table. "But people give their kids all kind of strange names, these days. Sarah Granley named her daughter Echo!" Karen shook her head and chuckled.

"I guess so," Mike shrugged. Something about it still bothered him, but he decided to let it go for now.

"Is dinner ready?" called Mike's dad from the living room. The aroma of Karen's famous roast chicken had apparently woken him from his evening nap.

"Just about!" Karen said. "Go tell Nancy to come join us, please."

The Wheelers ate dinner together almost every night, but lately they were having trouble finding things to talk about. Mike's dad talked mostly about work - who was about to get fired, who was taking credit for other people's work, what clueless thing some junior exec had said during a big meeting, and so on. But no one else at the table had much to say on these topics, so things kind of petered out after Ted had finished talking.

Sometimes Mike talked a little about his hobbies, about AV club or his Dungeons and Dragons campaign, but he could tell no one else in his family really cared - although his mom often pretended to. So lately he had been scarfing down dinner as fast as he could so as to get back to the basement, where he could write in his notebook and talk to his friends on his Supercomm.

Nancy had been quieter than usual lately, Mike noticed. He figured it had to do with that guy he saw her talking to at school - some popular douchebag named Steve Harrington. Mike knew that Nancy had gone to a party on Friday, and not the kind of party their parents would approve of, either. The old Nancy would never have lied to their parents, or given the time of day to a preppy asshole like Steve. Seeing how much she had changed… it worried him, even though he would never have admitted it. He wanted to believe that it was possible to grow up without becoming a completely different person, but maybe it just wasn't.

"So, me and Barb are gonna study at her house tonight. That's cool, right?" Nancy asked her mom, trying to seem nonchalant. _Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes…_

Karen smiled as she cut off a piece of chicken and fed it to Holly. "Sure, sweetie. Just be home by 8:30."

Nancy didn't intend for anything to happen with Steve that night - or at least that was what she told herself. He picked her up in his car on the corner of Dearborn and Maple, and when she slid into the passenger seat she felt a rush of butterflies. She was still wearing her school clothes. She had considered changing into something - well - sexier, but nothing in her closet seemed quite right. Besides, if she changed her clothes, it would seem like she thought this was a date or something, which would really be embarrassing.

He gave her that trademark Harrington grin and gestured to the text book she had clutched in her lap. "You _were_ serious about the studying."

She rolled her eyes. "I told you…"

Steve chuckled. "I know, I know. Just kidding." He revved the engine. "Where to?"

"Didn't you say you had a place in mind?"

"I know a place…" he nodded, smirking. "But I don't think anybody's ever done any studying there."

"Well, then we'll be the first," she said, primly.

He laughed, pulling out of the parking space and driving just a little too fast down Maple Street.

* * *

When Nancy wasn't home by 10:30, Karen started to worry. She picked up the phone to call the Hollands, and Barb's mom answered.

"Hello?" she said, sounding tired.

"Hi Jane, it's Karen Wheeler. Are the girls still studying?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ms. Holland.

"Oh, well, Nancy told me she would be home by 8:30, so I just wanted to check. I know they're studying, but it is a school night, you know."

There was a pause. "Actually, I haven't seen Nancy at all, Karen. Barbara studied by herself and then went to bed early. Are you sure she said she was coming over here?"

Karen frowned. "No, she definitely said she was going to your place."

"Oh dear," Ms. Holland said. "Where could she be? You don't think something happened…"

Karen tapped anxiously on the kitchen counter. "I'm sure she's fine. I'll ask Ted if he has any ideas."

"Oh, and you know, that reminds me. I overheard Barbara talking with Nancy on the phone last night. I think… well, I guess it's not my business."

"What is it?"

"Well…" began Ms. Holland, hesitantly. "I think Nancy may be seeing a boy."

Karen shifted the phone to her other ear. "What makes you say that?"

"I guess it's just a hunch, but the way those two were talking… I know Nancy's always been very responsible, but at that age… these things do happen."

"Yes, I suppose they do…" Karen sighed. "Thanks, Jane. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Of course, Karen. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Mrs. Wheeler hung up the phone and rubbed her temples, wondering what she should do next.

Chief Hopper had just finished chasing some hooligans off Phil Larson's property, leaving broken ceramic gnomes scattered on the lawn like corpses after a battle. A call came over on his radio from headquarters - more specifically, from Flo.

"Chief, Karen Wheeler can't find her daughter. Thinks she might be with some boy. Any ideas?"

Hopper rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood to meddle with horny teenagers right now, but he knew Karen and Ted would make a stink if he didn't jump on command. "I'll do a sweep of the usual places."

He could hear his deputy chuckling over the radio. "I guess you know all the best spots in Hawkins, huh Chief."

"Well, I've got to know a few quiet places to park," Hopper said, grinning. "You know how your wife likes to make noise."

The boys roared with laughter while Flo huffed impatiently.

* * *

Mike unlocked the door to the AV room and it swung open as he turned on the lights. To his surprise, he saw a girl sitting on the table by the Heathkit, a girl he had never seen before. She had extremely short hair, pale skin and huge, dark eyes. For some reason she reminded him of a small wild animal that had wandered into the school - she seemed somehow lost, like she didn't really know where she was. But she was calm, staring at him intently, as if she had been waiting for him. He walked over to her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Does Mr. Clarke know you're in here?"

She looked at him, puzzled. "Mr. Clarke?" she repeated, as if she had never heard the name before.

"He's the advisor for AV club," Mike explained. "He has the keys to this room."

"Keys?"

"Yes, keys." He felt somewhat frustrated by her lack of understanding, but also intrigued by it.

The bell rang, and she winced at the noise.

"It's time for class," he told her. She just stared at him, her big doe eyes hardly seeming to blink.

He sighed and grabbed her hand. "Come on, we've got to go."

Her hand felt warm in his and she smiled, jumping off the table and following gamely behind him as he led her out into the hallway.

To his surprise, the school was completely empty. Had he come to school on a Saturday by mistake? No, that didn't make sense. His mom would have said something if he had gotten up early on the weekend for no reason.

Come to think of it, though, he didn't remember getting ready for school this morning. He was having trouble remembering what had happened before he opened the AV club door.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to the girl beside him, who was studying his face intently. "Do you know where everyone went?"

"Who?" she asked, and he sighed again.

"You know, the other kids, the teachers, everyone."

"Oh." She chewed her lip. "They aren't here."

That wasn't much of an answer. "I know! But why?" he asked, frustrated.

"I think because… it's our dream," she said, smiling slightly.

He frowned. "Our dream? This is a dream?"

She nodded.

Mike looked around, trying to piece together his surroundings. It looked a lot like ordinary Hawkins Middle School, but then again, he'd dreamed about going to school before. Usually those dreams were embarrassing, about starring in the school play without knowing any lines, or showing up in homeroom with no pants on.

This dream - if it was a dream - was different. Strange, but nice. He looked at the girl again, noticing that they were still holding hands. It occurred to him that he'd never held hands with a girl before.

"Okay," he said. "If this is a dream, then does that mean we can fly and stuff?" He grinned in excitement at the thought.

She tilted her head, considering. Then she nodded, ever so slightly, and he felt himself begin to hover above the ground.

He shouted in surprise, his limbs flailing a bit in the air before he found his balance. She giggled and floated upwards too, pulling him along.

"Like this?" she asked, and he nodded, looking at her with wide, impressed eyes.

They began to speed along through the hallway, and Mike wondered if this was what superheroes would feel like. They reached the double doors at the front of the school, and Mike flinched, expecting to crash into them. Instead, the girl put out her hand and the doors easily opened in front of them. They flew outside and pulled sharply upwards, causing Mike's stomach to flip over with adrenaline. He looked down at the ground rapidly shrinking beneath them, and cried out in terror.

They paused in their ascent and she looked at him curiously.

"What is it?"

"Can we just… can we land now?" he asked, his voice sounding strange and strangled. She nodded and they slowly descended, coming to rest on the roof of the school.

As soon as they landed, he felt his legs go wobbly and he sat down as far from the edge as he could get.

He was aware of her sitting down beside him, but he kept his eyes focused on the cement between his feet, relief giving way to embarrassment.

"I forgot… I'm actually afraid of heights," he finally admitted in a small voice. _Some superhero I am._

"Afraid?" she repeated.

He nodded, blushing.

She reached out, gently brushing the hair from his eyes. "Don't be afraid," she murmured.

He felt a strange tingling start at the base of his spine and spread out over his entire body. Her fingers were incredibly soft.

He turned sharply and almost glared at her, suddenly suspicious. "Are you real?" he demanded.

She looked at him in surprise and nodded.

He shook his head sadly. "You're just another part of the dream."

"Why can't I be real?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Because real girls don't talk to me," he said. "They don't like me because I'm short and bad at sports and I'm in AV club."

"I like you," she said quietly. She leaned against his shoulder and he sighed.

"That's exactly my point. That's how I know I imagined you."

She shook her head. "Maybe I imagined you."

"That's impossible," he scoffed. "I'm a real person. I'm Michael William Wheeler, I'm 14 years old, I have two sisters and a mom and dad and three best friends, I put syrup on my scrambled eggs and my favorite movie is Star Wars." He looked at her suspiciously. "Do you even have a name?"

She stared at him, looking sad. Hesitantly, she held out her arm, her hand balled in a fist.

He glanced at her, surprised. "What…"

"Look," she said, and he peered down to see a number tattooed just below her wrist. 011.

His head felt dizzy and confused. Something about that number seemed so familiar, but he couldn't quite remember why.

"What -" he began.

"My name is Eleven," she told him, for the second time that day.


	5. Chapter 5

Hi! I'm sorry it's been so long. I lost my job very very unexpectedly and I was kind of emotionally out of commission for awhile while coping with that. (The political situation in the US these days isn't helping my state of mind either.) But I'm finally starting to feel better and I know I've been hearing from people that they are disappointed with the lack of updates. I'm going to try very hard to get back to a regular weekly schedule. I appreciate you for sticking with me.

Also, did you see the trailer for season two? It was amazing! But my daughter El looked so sad :( I'm worried about her TT I'm curious what you all thought!

On to the chapter! Love you guys.

* * *

A split-second later, Mike jolted awake in his bed, his heart pounding. That voice… her voice. It was the same as the voice he'd heard on the radio. _Eleven_. That was her name.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the strange deja vu feeling, the memory of her voice echoing in his head. It was just a dream. A really strange, vivid dream. It had to be.

He was so caught up in speculation about the meaning of his dream that he almost missed the tense atmosphere in the kitchen when he came down for breakfast.

His sister was sitting sullenly at the table, staring down as if she was studying the wood grain. His mother was walking around putting away dishes, slamming drawers with a little too much force. His father was nowhere to be seen.

"Mike, can you ask _our mother_ if we have any jam?" Nancy asked, loudly.

Mike rolled his eyes and took a piece of toast from the platter on the table. He bit into it with a dry crunch. "You ask her, I'm not your servant."

"Fine," huffed Nancy. She stood up suddenly and stomped past Karen over to the fridge, throwing it open with a bang.

"Excuse me!" snapped Karen. "Young lady, you can hardly afford to take an attitude with me."

"Oh, really?" Nancy responded. "You're ruining my life, what kind of attitude should I take?"

"Don't be overdramatic, Nancy," sighed Karen. "It's unattractive."

" _I'm_ overdramatic!" Nancy scoffed. "You're the one who called the cops after I was twenty minutes late for curfew."

"Well, they found you snuggled up in a car with some boy," Karen pointed out, trying to keep her voice down so Mike wouldn't hear, "so I think I was right to worry… How could you be so irresponsible?"

"We were just… studying!" objected Nancy, but her voice wavered a bit, and no one in the kitchen, including herself, thought she sounded convincing.

"How naive do you think I am?" Karen shouted, slamming the fridge door shut. She took a breath and tried to compose herself. "Go to school. We'll discuss this later."

"We'll see," mumbled Nancy. She grabbed her backpack. "Bye, Mike. Have a good day at school!" she said to him warmly, making him almost choke on his orange juice in surprise.

"Uh… thanks…" he coughed.

Nancy turned, glared at her mother without saying a word, and flounced out of the house.

As soon as she was gone, Karen just about collapsed into her kitchen chair, rubbing her temples in frustration. She looked up at Mike.

"Michael… I'm so glad you're not a girl," she sighed.

Mike laughed and stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Me too."

At school Mike couldn't shake off the memory of his dream. No matter how many times he told himself that this girl wasn't real, that she was just a product of what his parents called his "overactive imagination," he still kept picturing her unblinking dark eyes, her thin forearm inked with a number tattoo, her strange confidence… it wouldn't leave him alone.

At lunch, his friend Lucas noticed when Mike stayed quiet while the other boys rehashed the weekend's campaign.

"You okay, man?" Lucas asked. "Are you worrying about gym class again? You know it doesn't matter what those assholes say…" He gestured to the table where Troy and the other bullies sat. "There's more to life than dodgeball, you know."

"I know, I know," Mike said, waving his hands dismissively. "That's not it. I just… I had a weird dream last night, that's all."

Dustin swallowed his bite of celery stick and grinned. "That reminds me, I had a really weird dream last night, too!"

"Really?" Mike asked, curious if there was a connection. "What was it about?"

"Well…" Dustin squinted his eyes, as if he was trying to remember something, "I think… my mom was abducted by aliens? And then, she came back wearing these crazy clothes, and the aliens had taught her to cook, like, alien food."

"Alien food?" chuckled Will. "What made it alien food?"

"I don't know!" Dustin said defensively. He squinted his eyes, trying to picture it. "I think it was blue? And it was like, floating, somehow."

"Probably better than the food your mom makes now," teased Lucas.

"Hey!" objected Dustin. "My mom's cooking is the best."

"Last time I visited she burned the Mac and cheese," Lucas pointed out. "Who does that?"

Dustin sputtered. "We like it that way!"

Will noticed that Mike was once again tuning them all out. "Was that what your dream was like?" he asked quietly.

"No," Mike said, studying the lunch table and tracing the fake grains of wood with his finger. "My dream was… it was really strange."

"What happened, then?" asked Lucas.

Mike took a deep breath, hoping he didn't sound crazy. "Remember the girl we talked to yesterday, in the radio?"

They nodded.

"I had a dream about her."

The boys looked at each other warily. "Okay," said Lucas, cautiously. "That's not _that_ weird."

"Yeah but…" Mike sighed. "She told me that it was really her, that she had made the dream, somehow? She could like, control things."

"What kind of things?" asked Will.

"Well, she made us fly, because I asked her to. We flew around the school, and up to the roof."

"That sounds awesome!" enthused Dustin. "I wish I could have a dream like that."

"How did you know it was her?" Will asked, leaning forward. He seemed caught up in the story, as if it was another campaign that Mike was telling them about.

"She said her name was Eleven," Mike explained. "She even had a tattoo on her arm, with the number on it." He looked out the cafeteria window. "And her voice was the same." The words came out more wistfully than he'd intended.

"What does she look like?" Dustin asked. "Was she a ghost, or a witch or something?"

Mike shook his head. "She just looked like a girl, about our age. It was strange though… she didn't have any hair."

"Huh?" Dustin said, wrinkling his nose. "A girl with no hair? Sounds freaky."

"No, she was… she was pretty, actually," Mike objected. He blushed after he realized what he had said.

"Well, anyway," Lucas said, "it was just a dream. You probably just made all that stuff up in your head, based on talking to that girl yesterday."

"Yeah, probably," Mike agreed, but inside he wasn't so sure.

* * *

Eleven was woken early by the abrupt opening of the steel door to her prison. A nurse crept in trailed by two burly guards, weapons clenched tight in their slightly-trembling hands. Eleven looked at them tiredly, not bothering to speak as she was hauled upwards by the wrist and brought out into the too-bright hallway.

As they led her to her bedroom, she looked around at her surroundings, suddenly wondering about a question that had never before occurred to her, a question Mike had asked her yesterday.

She tugged on the sleeve of the nurse, trying to slow him down. When that didn't work, she made the doors in front of them slam shut. He started in surprise and pushed at the doors, but they didn't budge. He looked down at her.

"Where am I from?" she asked, quietly.

He glared. "Is this one of your tricks?"

"Please, where am I from?" she repeated.

He sighed, almost looking sorry for her. "Look, I don't want to send you back there," he jerked his head back towards the Room, "but I'm gonna have to, if you keep making a fuss."

Her stomach grumbled, and she hesitated. She didn't want to be locked away again.

"Is there a problem, sir?" one of the guards asked the nurse. The nurse looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she relented, letting the door swing open once more.

The nurse nodded at her and they continued forward.

He deposited her in her bedroom, where she was greeted by a cold, grey breakfast and a fresh hospital gown. She quickly changed out of her diving suit, which had grown itchy as it had dried overnight, and took large gulps of water from a paper cup on her nightstand. She noticed that the flower from her Papa was gone - he must have had it taken away last night, as further punishment for her disobedience. The reminder of his anger stung - but not as much as she expected it to. It was like a wound that had already partially healed when she wasn't watching.

A lot of that had to do with the things she had discovered in the past twenty-four hours, and the people she had spoken to. One scrawny freckle-faced boy in particular.

She sat down on the bed, her body purposefully positioned away from the camera on the ceiling by the door, and smiled down at her hands, allowing the memories to rush in.

 _"I'm a real person. I'm Michael William Wheeler, I'm 14 years old, I have two sisters and a mom and a dad and three best friends, I put syrup on my scrambled eggs and my favorite movie is Star Wars."_

She'd never created a dream before, but it had come easily to her after all - using what she'd seen of Mike's environment to build a place for them to meet. She'd even borrowed the image of a blue dress worn by one of his classmates as a replacement for her wetsuit.

It occurred to her that she'd used her powers in strange new ways that the scientists here had never even imagined. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to use her powers for herself, on her own initiative, with no outside instruction or control. The feeling was intoxicating. She wanted more of it.

A young man in a lab coat came to take her to the testing room, and she followed without resistance. She was distracted, trying to find a way to answer the question Mike had asked her.

"Where am I from?" she asked, as they rounded the corner and left the north wing of the building.

He stared at her, and seem jolted into answering. "Indiana," he said. He immediately looked around, panic stricken and eyeing the security camera on the wall.

The word sparked something in her memory. _Indiana… Indiana… why did that sound familiar?_ She mouthed the word slowly, whispering to herself. The young man narrowed his eyes.

"You keep that to yourself, okay? The Doc don't like you asking questions," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

She nodded, frightened.

"Okay, then," he said, cracking a tiny smile. "Let's go." He tilted his head towards the testing room and ushered her inside.

The experiments that day were grueling and tedious. The examiner would pick a card or a number, or tell her he was picturing an animal or a color, and ask her to guess what he was thinking. It was extremely frustrating. She would focus so carefully, all of her senses concentrated at once, until her head felt heavy and her shoulders ached, but nothing came through clearly. It just wasn't something she could do, but they wouldn't let her quit, even though she could tell she wasn't giving them the answers they wanted.

Papa stopped in and she looked at him hopefully, wanting him to smile and tell her she was doing well, to tell her that he had forgiven her for breaking the rules. Instead he kept his eyes focused on the pieces of paper that came rustling out of the big machine in the corner of the room, the one linked to the wires they had wrapped around her skull. She could tell he was unhappy with what he saw, and she cringed.

"Papa," she murmured, wanting him to look at her. She hated being punished, but being ignored was almost worse, somehow. He glanced at her, but his eyes were cold.

"Focus on your work, Eleven," he said as he returned to studying the papers in front of him.

She nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat and staring at her hands before continuing with the test.

* * *

After lunch the boys headed to the AV room, hoping to spend more time playing with the new radio. Mike was unusually reluctant but he allowed himself to be pulled along. A part of him was afraid of what they would find if they reached out to this girl Eleven. Would she even be there?

What if the dream was just a dream?

What if it wasn't?

He wasn't sure which possibility made him the most anxious.

But he didn't let his friends see his concerns, and he hoped none of them noticed the way his hands shook as he took the controls.

"Hi, uh, this is Mike. Anybody out there?"

Silence. Static. Nothing.

He waited, then tried again. "Eleven, can you hear me?"

No response.

He sat there for longer than he meant to, straining his ears in the hopes of hearing her voice. Finally, Will put his hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think she's there, Mike. We'll try again tomorrow."

Mike nodded sullenly and relinquished the controls to Dustin, who shared a worried glance with the other boys before tuning the radio to a new frequency. It wasn't long until they made contact with a friendly group of hobbyists in upstate New York, and the excitement of the ensuing conversation made it easy for Mike to recede into a corner of the room without being noticed. He sat there listening to the others talk, trying to focus. A few tears slipped from his eyes and he hastily wiped them away, shaking his head angrily. What was _wrong_ with him? Was he honestly expecting her to be there waiting for him, as if everything he'd dreamed was real? Maybe his parents were right - he spent too much time wrapped up in stupid fantasies and it was making him lose his grip. He had no reason to feel this intense and crushing disappointment that was currently weighing him down.

Nevertheless, he felt it. And it _hurt_.


	6. Chapter 6

Trying to make up for the weeks I made you guys wait without an update. Here's a reallllly long chapter with lots of cute and feels. Enjoy!

* * *

Nancy was so frustrated with herself that she wanted to scream. After all that blushing and protesting and lugging her textbook along on her date with Steve, they'd ended up making out in his car just like he must have known they would. And then she'd gotten picked up and driven home by the chief of police, and her mom had grounded her for a month.

The worst part was, she'd left the textbook in Steve's car, and now she was pretty sure she was going to fail her Chemistry test.

"Barb, do you have the Chem notes from Friday?" Nancy asked as she rummaged through her locker, hoping to find an extra study guide.

"Yeah, sure Nance. Hold on…" Barb pulled out a few looseleaf pages from her backpack. "Here they are." They walked to homeroom while Nancy frantically examined the notes, almost running into a sophomore in the process.

Barb studied her friend suspiciously. "Are you alright? You seem kind of… distracted."

"No, yeah, I just… I forgot my textbook," Nancy said. She didn't want to get into everything that had happened, at least not until the test was over with.

"Okay, well, we've got ten minutes," Barb said, checking her watch. "Want to go over some flash cards?"

Nancy smiled. "Sure."

"When alpha particles go through gold foil, they become…" Barb read from the first card.

"Unoccupied space," answered Nancy.

Barb's next question was rudely interrupted by Steve, who unceremoniously grabbed the flash cards out of her hands.

"I think you've studied enough, Nance."

"Steve…" Nancy objected anxiously, reaching for the cards.

"I'm telling you, you got this. Don't worry! Now, on to more important matters. My dad has left town on a conference and my mom's gone with him, cause, you know, she doesn't trust him…"

"Good call," Steve's friend Tommy added, grinning.

"So are you in?" Steve asked, looking at her expectantly.

Nancy felt like she had missed something. "In for what?"

Tommy's girlfriend Carol smiled, but not in a particularly friendly way. "No parents, big house…"

"A party?"

"Ding ding ding!" said Carol, and Nancy decided she didn't like her very much.

Nancy took a breath to steady herself. "I can't."

"Don't tell me you have to study!" objected Steve, chuckling.

Nancy glared at him. "Did you forget what happened last night?" she said, in an angry undertone.

"Uh oh, Stevie's been a bad boy," cackled Tommy.

Nancy bristled. "It's _not_ like that."

"Shut up, Tommy," snapped Steve. He shoved his hands in his pockets, angling his body away from his friends so he was facing her directly. His voice became a little softer, a little more serious. "Come on, Nance, I know I… got a little carried away last night. We _both_ did. But come on, it's just a party. I promise I'll behave."

Nancy's mouth went into a hard line. "I _can't go_ , Steve. I'm permanently grounded for missing curfew and lying to my mom. I'm sorry." With that, she walked into the classroom, her face hot and her heart pounding with frustration. Nancy ignored Barb, who was trying to catch her eye, and focused on the test in front of her. _My social life is in ruins. Might as well try to keep my GPA intact_.

* * *

After school, Mike dawdled behind, telling his friends that he was going to work on his English paper at the school library. He didn't really mean for it to be a lie, but after staring at the pages in front of him for a few minutes, he gave up and stuffed all his books and papers away in his backpack, deciding he wouldn't be able to concentrate unless he gave the radio one more try.

Mr. Clarke was obviously surprised to see Mike when he knocked on the teacher's office door.

"Oh, Michael, it's you. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, Mr. Clarke, it's no big deal. I just was wondering… could you let me use the AV room for a little while?"

The man looked at him quizzically. "For what?"

"Uh…" Mike began, scratching the back of his neck, "The library is kind of crowded, and I need a place to study."

Mr. Clarke tilted his head. "Well… I suppose so. If you need anything, let me know."

Mike cautiously opened the door to the AV room. He half-expected the girl from his dream to be sitting on the table again, waiting for him. But of course the room was empty, and he sighed as he sat down.

"You're being really, really stupid," he said out loud.

Hesitantly, Mike flipped on the Heathkit, listening to it whirr as it powered up. He turned the dial until it clicked onto the right frequency, the same one they'd used yesterday. Then, he waited.

* * *

Eleven didn't have a reliable way to count the passage of time, so she didn't know how long the testing had lasted, exactly. All she could tell was that it had gone on for a long while, and then she had been left alone again, and no one had brought her any food, and she was very hungry. She looked around, wondering if she should call out or try to open the door. It was difficult to know, sometimes, what she could get away with and what she would be punished for.

The scientist had left a pencil on the desk in front of her. She rolled it back and forth with her fingers, then with her mind. Finally, she lifted it up and cautiously nibbled on the eraser. She'd seen Mike do this, and had imagined it might taste good. However, the result was disappointing, taste-wise, and did not satisfy her hunger in the slightest.

The next object that she noticed was a small, black rectangular object that had been left on the table by the door. It had a short wire sticking out of it and a few red buttons on the side. She picked it up and fiddled with the dials until it began to buzz softly. There were voices inside, some that she recognized but many that she didn't. She didn't realize what she was looking for until suddenly she heard it.

"Eleven? Eleven? Man I must sound crazy. She's not out there."

"Mike," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"Eleven, is that you?" he gasped.

"Yes."

"Um… Hi, Eleven. How… how are you?"

It was a simple question, but it took Eleven a long time to respond. Her father and the doctors often asked her how she was, but she had learned never to trust them with the truth of how she actually felt. Her feelings - worries, fears, frustrations - were always minimized, or worse, used against her.

 _But he isn't like that,_ she told herself. _He can't be._

"Eleven? Are you still there?" asked Mike, a little louder.

"I'm hungry," she admitted. "I'm hungry and no one is coming."

Something about her tone made Mike frown, suddenly worried.

"Oh, so… you don't have any food in your house?" Mike asked.

"I don't have a house. I have a room," she explained. "Papa… Papa brings me food, or a doctor or a nurse."

"Oh," said Mike. There was a long pause. "Are you sick?"

Eleven considered this. "I…don't know. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Nosebleeds," she said. "and head-hurts."

Mike frowned. "Everybody gets nosebleeds and headaches _sometimes._ "

Eleven inhaled sharply. "Your nose bleeds?"

"I mean, yeah, sure," Mike shrugged.

"When you… move things?" she whispered.

"Move things?" he repeated, confused. "No, more like… when I run, or when I get nervous, especially if it's cold outside and the air is dry."

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"Anyways, I'm sorry you're hungry," Mike said. "I hope you get something to eat soon."

Somehow Eleven felt like the emptiness in her belly had already begun to fade. "Thank you," she said, like she had been taught to say to the nurses when they fed her or changed her sheets or cut her hair. This time, though, she meant it.

"I tried to talk to you earlier, um, when the guys were here, but we couldn't hear anything," Mike said. He hoped the disappointment in his voice wasn't too obvious.

El shook her head. "They were testing."

"Testing… your radio?"

"I don't have a radio," Eleven said.

Mike wrinkled his eyebrows, confused. "Then how…"

"They're coming," Eleven whispered, suddenly afraid as she heard boots coming down the hall. "Have to go."

"What? Who's coming? Eleven, wait!"

"See you tonight," she whispered, and then there was only silence.

* * *

That night, Mike was restless and distracted. Even his parents noticed - well, at least his mom did. At dinner he only picked at his slice of casserole and tried to pretend that the story his dad was telling about work was at all interesting. His mind was caught on the mystery of the girl from the dream, the girl in the radio. He knew he should be more suspicious of her, of the whole situation, and look at things objectively and rationally, like Lucas would. But the thought of seeing her again made his heart pound unevenly, and he knew he would never, ever be objective about this.

After dinner, Karen forced a very sullen and uncooperative Nancy to come downstairs and help them do the dishes.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to leave my room after dark," Nancy muttered as she scrubbed a pot in the sink.

Karen rolled her eyes. "I never said that. You're part of this family, and in this family everyone helps out."

Nancy jabbed her hand towards the living room, where Ted was lying on the Lazy Boy half-asleep, flipping through channels. "What about him?"

Karen let out a frustrated sigh. "Your father has had a very long day at work, Nancy. Let him be."

"It's not fair," Nancy muttered. Unfortunately Karen heard her, and she slammed a platter down on the kitchen counter with an uncharacteristic scowl.

"Oh, don't try that with me, missy. Do you know how many children wish they could live in a house like this, and eat big home-cooked meals every day, and go to a good school? The world does not revolve around you and your problems."

"Whatever," Nancy muttered, her face red. She hated it when her mom brought up how privileged they all were. She didn't ask to be born into a perfect little family living at the end of a cul-de-sac - it just happened. Besides, maybe the kids in not-so-perfect families were happier then they were. How would her mom know?

Meanwhile, Mike's thoughts had turned once again to Eleven. What kind of place did she live in? Was she happy? Somehow he had a feeling that she wasn't. She'd mentioned not eating, and being scared. Besides, happy kids didn't have tattoos. There had to be a story there. He hoped he could figure out what it was.

For the first time in a very long time, Mike went to bed early. He even declined his mom's offer of a scrabble match, which was practically unheard of.

"Sorry, Mom. I'm feeling kind of tired," he lied. She didn't question it, just looked at him in that slightly worried motherly way and sent him up to bed with a kiss on the cheek.

It took him a long time to fall asleep. He kept staring out into the darkness of his bedroom, watching the moonlight fall through his window, listening to the scratching of the wind. Just as he was about to give up and go back downstairs, he blinked and suddenly there she was.

He sat up and looked around. He was still in his bedroom, in his pajamas, but it was broad daylight outside. She was sitting on a rocking chair in the corner, her legs pulled under her, staring at him.

"Hello," she said, smiling. "Michael William Wheeler."

Something about the way she said his name made him blush - she seemed to take it very seriously, somehow.

"You can just call me Mike," he said.

She looked at him curiously. "Mike?"

"Yeah, it's… it's short for Michael," he explained. "It's a nickname."

"Nick…name…" she repeated.

"Yeah, um, we could give you one," he suggested. "Maybe, we could call you El? Short for Eleven?"

"El," she whispered, her eyes sparkling as she nodded.

"Yeah, um, anyways…"

"This is your room?" El asked, looking around in amazement.

"Yeah, this is it," he said.

"Where is the glass?" She asked, looking around. "Where is the camera?"

"The glass? You mean, like the windows?" He said, pointing at them.

She walked slowly, carefully, over to his main window, the one that faced the street. Gingerly, she reached out her hand to stroke the windowsill. "Windows," she whispered, awe painting her features.

"Don't you have windows - in your room?" he asked, a feeling of dread gathering in his stomach. He watched her shake her head and the awful truth settled over him. Wherever she was - she was a prisoner.

"Are you - are you still hungry, El?" he asked gently, and she nodded. He grinned. "Let's go get some food, okay?"

He grabbed her hand - it was just as warm as he remembered - and led her out of her room and down the stairs. When he reached the kitchen, though, he hesitated. For the first time, he wished he knew more about how to cook.

"What kind of food do you like, El?" he asked, shyly. "Maybe, since this is a dream, we can make it appear."

"Anything," she said, shrugging.

He considered this. "How about… how about waffles, with maple syrup and butter? And scrambled eggs, and bacon? We could have a whole breakfast feast!" He grinned, excited.

"Breakfast feast?" she repeated, smiling shyly back at him. She put her hand on his forehead. "Put it… put it in your mind," she told him.

He blushed, but tried his best to concentrate. When he opened his eyes again, the table was spread with all his favorite breakfast foods, the ones his mom only made on special occasions.

"Look, El, it worked!" he crowed, nudging her with excitement.

She smiled. "Breakfast feast."

He waved her over to the table and made a big show of pulling out her chair for her, like they did in fancy restaurants on TV. Then he sat down next to her, leaning on his elbows and watching her take it all in.

"What do you want to try first?" he asked.

She pointed at the pile of golden, steaming waffles, her eyes shining.

"Go for it!" he encouraged, pushing the plate towards her. Much to his surprise, instead of grabbing a knife and fork, she reached out and picked up a whole waffle in her hand and bit into it, ignoring the syrup that was beginning to run down her wrist.

He chuckled and watched her face expectantly, but her expression turned blank as she chewed and swallowed the bite of waffle. She put the remainder back on her plate, frowning slightly.

"What is it, El? You don't like it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, I - I can't taste it," she admitted.

He cut off a piece of waffle and took a bite. "Tastes good to me," he commented. He looked at her worriedly. "What do you think is wrong? Why can't you…"

She cocked her head. "Maybe… because I don't know? What it should taste like."

He nodded. That made sense, sort of. "Well, it's called a waffle. It's really, um, sweet, I guess? Especially with the syrup. And it's warm, and fluffy on the inside, like bread. But the outside is crispy, like toast. I think you would really like it.

Hesitantly, she took another bite. Then her face lit up with a transcendent smile. "I… I taste it," she whispered.

He glowed with satisfaction. "You like it?"

"Yes," she said, nodding furiously. She piled the rest of the waffles on her plate and began to tear into them.

He chuckled and dug into a plate of scrambled eggs, watching her with amusement.

After she had eaten what seemed like a million waffles, he decided to give her the "grand tour." He showed her the kitchen with the ice machine and the TV in the living room.

"Follow me," he said, his eyes bright, as he lead her down the basement steps. "This is the best room in the house."

She looked around suspiciously at the dark, low-ceilinged room. She couldn't see any of the technological wonders of the rest of the home, and the shadows around them were frightening. She took a deep breath and held on tighter to Mike's hand.

"Best room?" She asked, fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Yeah, my friends and I have lots of fun down here. We play games and eat pizza and stuff."

Eleven looked around, trying to picture it. "What are friends?"

Mike stared at her, and she felt her cheeks turning pink.

"You… don't know… about friends?" he asked slowly.

"No," she admitted, looking at the floor. He seemed upset, and she shrunk away instinctively. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"El…" he began. She saw in the corner of her eye that he was leaning towards her, and she froze, not sure what was coming.

He wrapped his arms around her. It was a tight grip, but it didn't hurt the way she'd expected, the way she was used to. It felt nice.

"A friend is someone you'd do anything for. A friend is someone you can talk to, about anything. Does that make sense?" he asked. She felt his chin moving against her shoulder as he spoke.

"Yes," she said. Suddenly she wanted a friend very, very much. _Are we friends,_ she almost asked, but she was afraid of the answer.

He released her, smiling, a slight reddish tinge appearing on his face. "You said you were real, right, El?"

She nodded. Then she remembered something. "I'm from Indiana."

Mike looked at her in surprise. "That's where I live." He cocked his head. "Where exactly in Indiana do you come from? Do you live there now?"

El kept her eyes downcast. "I don't know," she said.

"Well… well that's okay," he said, trying to cheer her up. "We'll figure it out."

Mike stood there awkwardly while El explored the basement. Every detail of it seemed to surprise her, even ordinary things like the sofa or the mini-fridge. Her attention was eventually captured by the window that looked out onto the Wheeler's sunlit backyard. "This is Indiana?" she asked. Mike chuckled at her awestruck expression.

"Well, it's the dream version, I guess. The weather is hardly ever this nice, this time of year."

"Oh," she said, seeming disappointed.

"Yeah, um, sometimes there are tornados, only not so much lately, but back when my parents were kids, a tornado almost ripped up half the town!" Mike said. He was going for a "cool impressive guy who knows exciting stories" type of persona, but El hadn't really noticed.

"Um, and one time, it snowed so much they cancelled school for a week!" he continued, even as he mentally cringed at himself for rambling. He quickly went to the game cabinet and began to rummage through it, looking for something - anything - cool to show her.

"Snow?" El whispered, her eyes wide. She'd seen snow before, when Papa had told her to use her abilities to follow some bad men, the ones in dark, heavy coats who spoke a strange language and kept to the shadows. The white flakes had seemed to flutter around them like tiny moths, landing on their foreheads and cheeks before disappearing into nothing. She'd asked her Papa about it, afterwards, and he'd answered her for once, the success of her mission making him uncharacteristically generous.

Looking out at the yard, Eleven watched the first few snowflakes drift down from the sky and grinned with delight. By the time Mike looked up from his search, the weather outside had turned into a blizzard.

"Woah!" Mike shouted, running to join her at the window. "Awesome."

"Awesome," Eleven repeated, understanding the sense of the word without knowing the exact definition. She stroked the glass with her fingertip, admiring the snowy spectacle.

Mike smiled and grabbed her hand before he could talk himself out of it. "Let's go play outside!"

The snowstorm outside was like nothing Mike had ever experienced before. It felt warm out, like summertime, even as the flurries filled the air and piled up on the lawn. The snow didn't melt on his hands, but stayed there until he blew it away, like soap bubbles. He showed El how to make snow angels and then they got to work on constructing an igloo, with the snow easily molding itself into bricks and forming a perfectly smooth surface on which to build. The snowflakes clung to the ends of Eleven's buzzcut like a halo, and more than once Mike found himself wiping snow off her face, which frightened her at first but eventually made her blush and flutter her eyelids closed.

In the morning, Mike woke up smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

Nancy expected to hear from Steve before the start of homeroom - a note, a greeting in the hall, something - but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn't find him until midway through the school day, right at the end of lunch period. He was lounging by the vending machines with his friends Tommy and Carol. Carol was smoking, which was definitely not allowed, but nobody was stopping her. Nancy approached them, feeling unusually intimidated. Two days ago he was shoving his tongue down your throat, she told herself. There's nothing weird about wanting to say hello.

"Hey, Steve," she said, waving at him awkwardly.

"Uh, hi Nance," Steve responded, running his hand through his hair. He didn't stand up or invite her to sit down, so she just stood there, feeling a blush beginning to creep up her neck.

"How was the party?" she asked.

Tommy and Carol started laughing their asses off, and Steve couldn't help but chuckle along. "It was… uh… it was great."

She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was missing out on some inside joke. "Cool… sorry I couldn't make it."

"No worries," he said, smiling at her. It almost made her feel better, but then he followed up with, "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah, um, see you," she mumbled, feeling like she had been dismissed. "Bye."

She turned the corner and heard the three of them burst into laughter once again. Her heart clenched in her chest and her eyes began to water.

Barb could tell that Nancy was upset as soon as she saw her. They sat next to each other in English class, and as soon as the teacher left the room (ostensibly to give them time to catch up on reading, although everyone in school knew he was going to smoke in the teacher's lounge) she tapped her best friend on the shoulder, looking sympathetic.

"You okay, Nance?"

Nancy frowned. "I just… I feel like I should've gone to that party."

Barb raised her eyebrows and tried not to laugh. "Seriously? That party was going to be hell on Earth."

"You don't know that," objected Nancy.

"In what universe does drinking cheap beer and getting felt up by Steve Harrington sound like a fun night?"

"Shut up," muttered Nancy, turning pink. "It wouldn't have been like that."

"Are you guys talking about Steve's party?" asked Susan, the girl who sat next to them in class. She was known for being a bit of a gossip.

Barb rolled her eyes but Nancy nodded. "I was invited, but I couldn't go."

Susan leaned forward, glancing around conspiratorially. "I heard he hooked up with Celeste."

Nancy stared at her, stomach churning. "Steve hooked up with… Celeste Johnson? Are you… are you sure?"

"Apparently," Susan whispered, giggling, "they skinny-dipped in his pool, and then she gave him head in the living room, and then…"

Barb wrinkled her nose. "Gross." She really really didn't need to know any of that. It was a moment before she looked at Nancy and winced at her friend's heartbroken expression. "Nance…"

Nancy stood up and dashed out of the classroom, trying to keep her face neutral. She held in her tears until she reached the safe haven of the Ladies' Room.

Calm down, she told herself. It's just some stupid rumor. Steve likes you, he wouldn't hook up with another girl just because you weren't available.

A bevy of girls entered the restroom and Nancy ducked into one of the stalls, still trying to compose herself. The sound of their casual chatter helped calm her down - at first.

"Hey, Celeste, I heard you had a good time at Steve's party…"

Nancy heard giggling and her chest felt like it was made of ice.

"Oh my god, we got so drunk. His house is huge," Celeste told them. There was some teasing about whether other things were huge as well.

"So are you guys, like, a thing now?" asked Melanie Boyd.

Celeste chuckled. "Well, we're going to the football game together, so who knows?"

"What about that girl… what's her name… Natalie? Weren't they going out?"

"Natalie?" repeated Celeste, confused. "Oh, you mean Nancy, Nancy Wheeler?"

Nancy gripped the stall handle, her knuckles turning white.

"I don't think he was very serious about her," commented Celeste. "She just wasn't his type, if you know what I mean."

Nancy couldn't take it anymore. She opened the stall door with a bang, making all the girls jump in surprise. With her head held high, she ignored their smirks and stares, washing her hands and drying them carefully before going back out into the hallway.

As soon as she exited the bathroom she felt her legs start to give way and her lip began to tremble once again. She looked around for a new sanctuary and spotted the Photography Class darkroom. Without thinking twice, she rushed inside.

The room was too hot and smelled of chemicals, but Nancy was relieved to once again find herself alone. She walked along the rows of drying photographs, wiping her eyes and calling herself every synonym for "fool" she could think of.

"Nancy?"

She spun around, startled. Jonathan Byers was standing by the door in a ratty t-shirt and jeans, clutching a roll of negatives. "Jonathan? What are you doing here?"

Jonathan Byers stared at her and seemed unsure of what to say. "I'm… um… developing film."

"Oh, right," she said, cringing at herself. "Well, sorry for getting in the way. I'll just… I'll be going."

"Wait!" Jonathan said. Then he coughed and scratched behind his ear. "I mean, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing, nothing," she muttered, and lunged past him to the door. But when she opened it, she saw Steve standing in the hallway, and she quickly shut the door again.

Jonathan looked at her quizzically. "Nothing?"

She sighed and stared at her shoes, noticing how her white socks looked almost pink in the strange colored light. "Fine… I'm hiding."

To her surprise, Jonathan chuckled. She didn't think she'd ever heard him laugh before - the sound was deeper than she'd expected. She looked up to see him unspooling his roll of film and preparing to treat a new photograph, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"What?" she demanded. She couldn't stand having another person laughing at her.

"Nothing… it's just… this is a good place to hide," Jonathan said, quietly.

She studied him as he hung a new photo on the drying line. Nancy hadn't really talked to Jonathan in years. Back when she and Mike were closer, she would be over at the Byers' house every other weekend. She'd even had a bit of a crush on the eldest Byers boy, because he was two years older than her and used to make her laugh by pretending to be a master chef while he made the kids grilled cheese sandwiches.

"Are all of these yours?" she asked, motioning to the wall.

"Most of them," he said. She took a step towards him and looked down at the photo he was holding. In it, a flock of birds emerged from within a tangle of black tree branches, their wings catching the light.

"Wow… Jonathan, that's…" she breathed, impressed.

He was glad the darkroom light would disguise his reddening face. "So why are you hiding?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

She frowned, annoyed. "None of your business."

Jonathan smiled crookedly as he worked. "Well, you're in my darkroom."

"It's the school's darkroom," she shot back, crossing her arms.

He mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I reserved it," he said, knowing he was being immature. He was about to tell her to forget it, he didn't need to know - but then she started talking.

Nancy leaned against the wall. "The kids at this school, they're just… they're just…"

He raised his eyebrows and supplied a descriptor. "The worst?"

Nancy cracked a smile. "Exactly."

He smiled back, before returning to his project, secretly blushing. He had never imagined that a girl could look this pretty under red-light, but apparently…

"Have you ever been dating someone, and you think it's going great, and then suddenly they just turn around and act like a completely different person?"

"No," Jonathan said, honestly.

"Oh," said Nancy, feeling silly. Of course Jonathan didn't know anything about relationships. She wasn't even sure why she was telling him all this. "Well, it sucks."

"Sure," said Jonathan, sliding another photo into the solution. "Maybe that's who he was all along."

"Who?"

"Steve Harrington," Jonathan said calmly.

Nancy choked on air. "Who said anything about Steve?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "That's who you were talking about, isn't it?"

"Yeah… but…" stuttered Nancy. "How did you…"

"I hear things," Jonathan said. "People don't notice me much." He glanced at her pointedly, and Nancy looked down, embarrassed in spite of herself. She was probably guilty of that, too. Jonathan was quiet, and didn't have many friends, and most of the time it was just easier to pretend not to know him.

"Yeah, well, anyway… Steve's a jerk," muttered Nancy.

Jonathan leaned towards the table and mumbled something that sounded like, "No kidding." Nancy looked at the photos developing on the wall. Jonathan was talented, she had to admit. He cringed when she glanced over his shoulder, and seemed to attempt to shield the photo from her eyes. She saw it anyway.

The photo had been taken out by the football field. Girls and boys sat on the bleachers, their hands buried in their pockets because of the cold. Some laughed, while others looked bored. A couple in the far right was kissing passionately.

"Have you been doing this a while?" she asked.

"What?"

"Photography."

Jonathan nodded. He felt a need to explain, although he wasn't sure why. "Yeah… I guess I'd rather observe people than, you know…"

"Talk to them," supplied Nancy, smiling slightly.

He hunched his shoulders, looking down at his knees. "I know, it's weird."

"No!" Nancy said, her voice just a little too high to be convincing. The attempt made him laugh.

"No, it is… It's just, sometimes, people don't really say what they're really thinking. When you capture the right moment… it says more."

Nancy stared at him, intrigued despite herself. He looked away and then back towards her, seeming to waver somehow, and the intensity of his eyes caught her off guard. There seemed to be so many thoughts running through his head, thoughts that he would never say out loud and that she could only guess at. She found herself wishing she had a camera, so she could test his theory and find out what was really going on behind that stare.

The bell rang and she felt like she was waking from a trance. "I have to go," she told him. "I missed English class already."

He looked at her for a second before the words processed. "Are you… are you sure you're okay?" he asked, frowning. "What about Steve?"

Nancy sighed. "I'll just avoid him, for now. He's not worth getting detention over."

She picked up her book bag and slung it over her shoulder. On her way out the door, she paused and looked behind her.

"Thanks, Jonathan," she murmured, and he smiled, and she felt like maybe, just maybe, she would be okay.

"I talked to Eleven," Mike told the guys as he slid in next to Lucas at the lunch table.

"Really?" asked Will, pausing as he sipped milk through a straw. "When?"

Mike fidgeted with his yogurt, feeling guilty. "After school yesterday, I went back and found her on the radio."

The boys stared at him. "Why didn't you tell us?" asked Dustin. "We would've come with you."

Mike shrugged. "I didn't want you to think I was crazy."

"Well, what did she say?" asked Dustin through a bite of PB&J.

Mike tried to think of a good way to explain their conversation. "She said she was hungry… and she talked about doctors and nurses…"

"Is she in a hospital?" asked Will.

Mike frowned. "Maybe." That didn't seem right, though. "She said… she said she'd see me later."

"That's strange," Dustin commented.

"No," Mike shook his head. "It was almost like… you know that dream I had?"

The boys nodded.

"I had another one, last night. She was in my house, and we talked for a long time."

"What are you talking about?" asked Lucas.

"I feel like… when she said see you later, she was talking about the dream."

"Mike," Lucas said, "You know that's crazy."

"Yeah, but…"

Will shrugged, looking at Mike apologetically. "She might have misspoken. You know, like, she said 'see you later,' but she meant 'talk to you later.'"

Dustin nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like when your waiter gives you your food and says 'Enjoy your meal,' and you say, 'You too!' or something like that." He laughed. "My dad does that all the time."

Mike shook his head. "I think this is different. If you'd heard her say it…"

Will smiled at him, in a comforting expression that he seemed to have inherited directly from his mother, Joyce. "Let's try and talk to her today, alright? We can find out once and for all what she meant."

Mike's hands shook at the radio dials and he looked around nervously at his friends while the machine powered on.

"Hey, um, are you there, El? It's Mike."

"El?" mouthed Lucas, looking at Dustin and Will.

Mike heard him and rolled his eyes. "It's short for Eleven, okay?"

A long pause, and then suddenly a voice came crackling from the speakers.

"Mike…"

He could hear the smile in her voice, could almost picture her, and he grinned into his hand, trying not to let the others see.

"Hey El! How are you?"

"Tired," she said.

Mike frowned, once again feeling worried about her. "Why? What have you been doing?"

"Practicing," she said, as if this explained everything. Mike felt stumped.

"What time is it where you are?" Will asked, trying a new approach.

Eleven didn't respond. Mike was again reminded of the girl from his dream, her quietness, the way even simple questions seemed to confuse her. It really did seem like they were the same person… but of course that was impossible.

"Hey Eleven!" Dustin shouted. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, Dustinhenderson," she said, and he chuckled.

"Are you bald?"

Mike shoved Dustin in the gut, glaring at him, but Dustin ignored him.

"Bald?" Eleven replied.

"What Dustin means is, what do you look like?" Mike explained. "You don't have to tell us, if you don't want. We were just, um, curious."

"You saw me," Eleven said simply, and Mike's eyes went wide. He tried not to shiver.

"In the… in the dreams?" Mike whispered.

"Yes," she said. "That's what I look like. Except…" there was a pause. "I gave myself clothes. To be pretty."

"So all that stuff… those dreams… they were real?" Mike asked. His heart was pounding and he couldn't look away from the audio speakers, as if he might see her if he just stared long enough.

"No," Eleven said sadly. "I really didn't go to school, or fly, or touch your hand. I just dreamed it."

The other boys looked at each other at this last comment, but Mike didn't notice.

"But you're saying, somehow… we had the same dream?" Mike whispered urgently. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," Eleven admitted.

"Okay, guys, stop it," Lucas said, looking frustrated. "This isn't funny. Stop kidding around."

"I'm not kidding, Lucas!" Mike snapped. "This is happening. I'm not sure how, but… she's telling the truth."

"No way," Lucas scoffed, "It's like a bad Twilight Zone rerun. You're obviously pranking us. Well, I'm not falling for it."

"Lucas…" Mike began, but Lucas rolled his eyes and stood up, storming out of the room. Mike stared after him, clenching his fists. Why couldn't Lucas just believe him? Why did he have to try to poke holes in everything?

"Angry?" asked El, her voice soft and fearful.

"No, El, don't worry about it," Dustin said. "Mike and Lucas argue all the time, they'll make up."

"Lucas is being an asshole," Mike said into the mic.

"What is a..." El began.

Dustin cut her off. "We'll tell you another time, okay El?"

"Okay, Dus," said El, making Dustin guffaw.

"I'll talk to Lucas," Will told Mike, reassuring him. "But… you swear you're not making this up."

Mike gazed at Dustin and Will. "I swear I'm not," Mike said.

Will could tell from his friend's expression that he was telling the truth. And that was a truly frightening thought.


	8. Chapter 8

That night, Mike and El met again in his bedroom, almost as soon as he had closed his eyes. He showed her his toy figurines and trophies, and told her about his friends and his sisters.

For a long time they just lay on the floor together, looking up and watching his ceiling fan spin in the strange dreamy sunlight. "Can you show me where you live?" he asked, finally, sitting up on his elbows to look at her.

She shivered and shook her head.

He studied her, considering something. "You can't, or you don't want to?" he asked.

"Don't… don't want to dream of there," she admitted after a long pause. "I like this… better."

"Oh," he said. "It's just my house, though. Shouldn't we go somewhere more exciting? Since we're dreaming, and all."

She smiled slightly. "Like where?"

"Like… like the ocean?" he suggested.

"Ocean?" she repeated.

"Yeah!" he said, excited. "I went to the beach for the first time last summer. You would love it!"

"Tell me," she pleaded, her eyes fluttering closed.

He described the sound of the waves, the endless horizon of blue and grey, the feeling of your toes digging into the sand. He told her every single detail he could remember, until finally she opened her eyes again and smiled at him.

"I can see it," she said.

"Oh… uh… that's good," he mumbled, feeling pleased with himself.

Suddenly she reached out as if to touch his face and he started in surprise.

"What…" he asked, embarrassed.

She blushed and gestured to his eyes. "Close… close your eyes?" she told him, seeming unsure.

"Oh… okay," he said, hesitantly shutting them.

The next thing he heard was the cry of a seagull flying overhead. Then came the crashing of the tide. He felt the cool breeze on his face and opened his eyes in wonder.

How did she…

Everything was just as he had described it, just as he remembered it from his last trip to the beach.

Well, there were a few things she had gotten wrong, to be fair. Most noticeably, the sand below them was a soft coral pink. He realized he had forgotten to tell her the correct color.

He decided not to mention it. It was prettier this way, anyway.

"Wow," he breathed out in wonder. He turned to her, excited. "Let's go in the water, okay El?"

She seemed a little nervous, but she allowed him to pull her up from the sand and lead her to the water's edge. He tugged his shoes and socks off quickly and threw them backwards, sighing with happiness when he felt his toes sink into the cool sand.

El looked down at the water with suspicion, letting out a yelp when the waves rolled over her feet. "It's cold!" she complained.

"I told you it would be," he reminded her teasingly. He tugged on her hand, pulling her out towards the deeper water.

The waves pushed over their ankles as they moved closer to the breakers. El watched the motion of the water in awe.

Suddenly a large wave appeared, and Mike could tell from experience that if they didn't move, it would break right on top of their heads.

"El, you have to dive under this one," he told her, worried.

"Dive?"

He didn't have time to explain further - the wave was almost on top of them.

"Come on!" he said, taking a deep breath and submerging himself in the water.

He felt the wave roll over his body as he dived, and he emerged with a shout of victory. "That wasn't so bad, was it El?"

Mike looked around and realized with a pang of fear that she was gone. "El! El?" He called out.

He looked back towards shore and saw that the wave had knocked her over. She was struggling to right herself, gasping and crying out.

"El! Hold on, I'm coming!" He called, quickly dragging his limbs through the water, heading back towards her.

The water surged around him as another wave approached, and he could tell she was about to be knocked down again. "El, watch out!" He warned, fear burning in his chest.

But the wave never came. He looked up and realized the water had gone silent. The wave - the entire ocean - had stopped moving, as if frozen in place.

He looked up and could see the whitecap beginning to form, the water curving above them like the mouth of a cave.

"Did you do that?" he asked her, staring at her in wonder.

She nodded. "I was scared."

He sighed, feeling like a jerk. "I'm sorry. I should have told you more about how to swim before I took you out here."

"It's okay," she said. "It was… fun."

He wasn't sure he believed her, but he went along with it anyways. "Come on, let's go dry off."

They sat back down on the beach and El conjured up some towels, once Mike explained what they were. Mike tried to ignore the effects of the water on El's dress, and the way the beads of moisture made her skin seem to shimmer in the light. Thus, he was already plenty distracted when she made the incomprehensible decision to reach up and run her fingers though his damp, dripping hair.

"What…"

"Soft," she commented. He felt a blush spreading over his face and gulped.

"Um… thanks?" he mumbled.

She rubbed her other hand over her scalp self-consciously. He could tell what she was thinking. "You don't like yours?" he asked.

She shook her head in agreement, frowning.

"Why can't you grow it?"

She looked down and closed her eyes. Suddenly the strands of her hair began to curl down, lengthening by the second. As soon as he realized what she was doing, he grabbed her hand and shook his head.

"No, I meant… I meant in real life…" he explained quickly.

"Oh," she said, embarrassed. She looked down, biting her lip, and he felt like he had said something wrong.

"Are you… are you sick?" He asked again in a low, anxious voice.

She shook her head and he sighed with relief. He loosened his grip on her hand, realizing that he had probably been crushing her.

"Papa… he said it's better, short," she said, gesturing to her head. "Cleaner."

"Oh," he said, studying her again. "I mean, maybe a little," he shrugged, "but isn't it up to you? Most girls grow their hair down to here, at least," he said, pointing to the bottom of her ear.

"Papa says that… I am not like others," she explained, tracing a pattern in the sand with her fingertip.

"Well, he's right about that," Mike chuckled. She looked a little hurt, or at least confused, so he clarified. "I mean, most girls can't just show up in other people's dreams whenever they want. But still, he should let you grow your hair out and stuff."

"Can you do other things? Besides making dreams, I mean," he asked, curious.

She didn't look at him, but her posture shrunk slightly, as if she was afraid. "You can, can't you?" he guessed. "You can tell me, you know. I won't tell anyone else, I promise."

"Promise?" She asked, suddenly glancing up to meet his eyes. She seemed to be searching for something - a reason to trust him, maybe.

"It means something you can't break. Ever." He smiled at her, reassuring.

She nodded and he once again was struck by the depth and immensity of her eyes. He could tell that she believed him - believed in him - and somehow that knowledge made him feel about a foot taller.

"I can… move things," she whispered.

"Move things?" he repeated, wondering if she was saying what he thought she was saying.

She nodded. "With my…" she began, pointing to her forehead.

"What else?" he breathed.

"I can crush," she said. "I can… I can hurt." She folded her knees in front of her and hugged them, gazing out at the water. "I don't want to, but they make me."

"Who makes you?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Papa," she murmured. "The other men."

"Couldn't you run away?" he suggested. His eyes were fiery as he stared at her.

She shook her head. "They'd find me."

"El, you need to show me," he told her gently, brushing his fingertips along her arm. "I need to see where you live, where they're keeping you."

"No," she whispered, her voice breaking into a sob. "No, no."

"Please, El," he begged. "I want to help you. I want to help get you out of there."

She shook her head. "Not safe."

"Don't you want to meet in real life, El?" he demanded, his anger and frustration breaking through despite his efforts. "Because I want to meet you! I want to take you on bike rides around Hawkins and show you Star Wars and introduce you to my friends. I want to take you to the Snow Ball, it's this cheesy school dance but I think you would like it anyway. I want more than just dreams!" He paused, suddenly regretting his outburst. He blushed and pressed his palm into the sand. "I mean… don't… don't you?"

She squeezed his hand and he looked over at her cautiously. Her smile was small and hesitant, but it made his stomach flip over nevertheless.

"Tomorrow," she told him. "Promise."

With that, she faded away in front of him, leaving him alone on the beach.

"El? El!" he called out, suddenly frightened. In a moment he awoke in his bed, drenched in sweat.

It was still early morning, with only the faintest blue light coming through his bedroom window. He shut his eyes tight, trying to hold on to every detail of the dream.

He wondered if she was alright, wherever she was. Could it be true that she had powers, that she was being held hostage somewhere? Hard to believe, but he had to admit that there was nothing about her that he didn't trust. He wasn't sure how that had happened.

* * *

In homeroom, Lucas approached Mike with an apologetic look on his face, wringing his hands in front of him. "Hey man."

Mike glared at him. "What do you want?"

Lucas sighed. Mike was such a tough nut to crack sometimes. "I'm sorry, okay? I overreacted, and I shouldn't have." He looked at his friend. "It's just, you know this all sounds crazy, right? All this stuff, about the dreams, and that girl…"

"I know," Mike said. Now he was the one sounding defensive. "But seriously, Lucas, I wouldn't make this stuff up. I couldn't make this up!"

"Yeah, you could," Lucas said, smiling. "You're a pretty good storyteller, remember?"

Mike frowned. "But —"

Lucas cut him off, shaking his head. "I'm gonna try to believe you, though." He clapped a hand on Mike's back. "Will said… he said, that's what friends do."

Mike smiled, feeling like a hundred-pound weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Now, let's go find your damsel in distress," Lucas said, elbowing him in the ribs.

"She is not my…" Mike began, indignant. When he saw Lucas' expression of utter bemusement, however, he gave up. "Fine, yeah, let's go."

* * *

The other boys met them at the AV club room, seeming to understand that Mike would want to find Eleven again as soon as possible.

As they scanned the airways, waiting to hear something, Mike told them about his latest dream. Admittedly, he left some things out - he didn't want anyone to tease him for acting too mushy.

"So you think she's locked up somewhere? That's why she seems so… confused, all the time?" Dustin asked, his eyes wide.

"I think so," Mike said. "She talks about men, her father and some others… they keep her hair short, and won't let her out of wherever she is. There's a lot of things she should know about that she just… doesn't." Like friends, he thought to himself, frowning.

"But why?" asked Will. "Who would keep a kid locked up like that?"

Mike shrugged. He didn't want to break his promise to keep her other powers secret.

"And we have no idea where she is?" Lucas pressed, looking worried.

"No," Mike shook his head. "But she must be close. She's got to be close."

His friends looked at each other doubtfully. According to Mr. Clarke, this radio could reach all the way to Australia. As far as they were concerned, this girl could be anywhere on earth.

It took a while, but they finally found her - voice wavering and quiet, but nevertheless there. Mike smiled and began to ask her how she was doing when Dustin cut him off.

"Where are you, Eleven?" Dustin asked, urgently.

There was a long pause. "Don't know how… how to tell," she admitted.

Dustin looked around at the group in dismay. "How do we help her if we don't even know where she is?"

Mike began to pace. "Think about it, Dustin. She's only ever lived in this place, wherever it is they're keeping her. How would you describe a place if you've never been outside of it." Mike sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Have you ever seen any signs, any words written on the walls or something?" He asked her, gently.

"Can't… read much." Eleven told them, sounding frustrated.

"Those bastards didn't even teach her how to read?" muttered Lucas, angrily.

Mike closed his eyes. He fought off the wave of anger, trying to think. "Okay, well, do you know the alphabet?" Mike asked. He could almost see her nod. "Have you seen any letters that you remember?"

There was a pause, and they were about to give up and try a new approach, when suddenly she whispered something through the speakers.

"H…N…L," she said. "H. N. L."

"HNL?" Mike repeated. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I see it… all over."

The boys looked at each other. It wasn't much to go on, but at least it was something.

* * *

Eleven knew that the things she was doing were not allowed. Her Papa had never told her not to share dreams with a boy she'd found on the radio, or to tell him about her life, or to let him promise to rescue her. But she was smart enough to know that Papa would not have approved of these things - not at all.

The experiments had continued every day - mostly mind-numbing, sometimes painful - but she'd recently found herself losing focus in the middle of a task, suddenly remembering one of the words Mike had taught her, or wondering what he was doing now, or thinking about his smile. She used to feel driven to complete any direction she was given, wanting to make her Papa proud, wanting to be a good girl. Now, she wondered - why were they doing this? What was the purpose of the tasks she was given, the things she was asked to do? Why did she live here, in a cold unfriendly room amid cold unfriendly hallways, when other children lived in houses with windows and couches and families? Why couldn't she go to the beach or grow her hair or know about friends? These questions buzzed around her head, impossible to answer and impossible to ignore.

Unfortunately for her, the scientists who studied her were curious, as well. They wondered why this little girl - no, this subject, she was a subject in their eyes - seemed so listless and distracted, barely even listening to their directions, staring off into space with a dreamy expression. More than once a member of staff had reported their walkie-talkie missing and they'd found it clutched in her hands or hidden in her room. They tried to reprimand her, but she no longer seemed afraid of punishment. It frightened them enough that they finally told Dr. Brenner about it, but the doctor simply nodded and told them that he'd noticed the same thing, and that he'd already decided upon a solution.

* * *

After a meager lunch of soft carrots and hard, dry cheese, Eleven was taken from her bedroom and led far away, into a completely different part of the facility. Her Papa brought her to an office decorated in warm, pleasant colors, with big plush chairs and gentle music playing from a speaker in the corner. A woman with long, brown hair stood from her desk to welcome them.

"Hello, Dr. Brenner. Hello, Eleven." The woman leaned down and addressed the girl with a soft smile. "How are we today?"

El didn't respond, keeping her eyes downcast.

"Eleven, we've discussed this," Papa said, his voice a subtle reprimand. "You must answer all of Dr. Scofield's questions, as honestly as you can. She only wants to help you. Isn't that right, Doctor?"

"Yes, of course," the woman answered, smiling slightly. "There's no reason to be afraid, Eleven. I simply want to talk with you a little."

El nodded, but there was distrust in her eyes. When she looked up, she saw that her Papa was leaving the room and she felt a surge of panic. She hated being left alone with strangers - even strangers as pretty as Dr. Scofield.

"Please, sit down," said the doctor, motioning to the chair beside her desk. Eleven sat cautiously, then relaxed slightly, surprised by the softness of the fabric.

"Eleven, do you know why Martin - that is, your father - asked me to speak with you?" Dr. Scofield asked in a quiet voice, as she sat down opposite the girl.

El shook her head.

"Well, to put it simply, he's concerned. About your health, and your state of mind. Do you know what a 'state of mind' is?"

She shook her head once again, but her eyes darted to the woman's face. She was always curious to learn new words. It helped her understand more of what was happening around her, even if she never let her Papa know how much she knew.

"It's your attitude, your mood, your… level of commitment, you see. He feels that you are losing motivation, becoming restless… becoming weak." The woman was still looking at her sympathetically, but the word sounded cruel on her lips, and El shuddered.

The doctor opened up a file and glanced at it. "You haven't been sleeping well, for example," she commented, circling something in pen. She glanced back at her. "Why is that?"

"I… I sleep… well," El stuttered, trying to defend herself, but she couldn't look her in the eyes.

"Come now, my dear, you were instructed not to lie. I've reviewed the tapes myself. You've been tossing and turning every night, muttering and twitching… the nurses have seen the fresh blood on your pillowcase."

"So, tell me, Eleven. What are you doing? Who are you talking to?" She looked at her shrewdly.

Eleven stared at the ground. She didn't want to give up her secret, but her Papa's words rang in her ears. He had instructed her to be honest. But nothing good could come of confessing, of that she was sure.

The doctor sighed, removing her reading glasses and folding them on the desk. She stood up and walked over to where El sat, her small hands gripping the side of her chair, her back hunched up defensively like a frightened cat.

The woman sank down to El's level and placed a careful, cool hand on her wrist. El stared at her in shock. She was hardly ever touched gently, on purpose, by anyone. The woman smiled.

"You're such a special little girl, Eleven," she murmured, and El felt like she was on the verge of tears for a reason she couldn't explain. "I want to help you. Do you want me to help you?"

El nodded, looking at the woman's face. "Yes," she whispered, as hope filled her chest.

"Good," encouraged the woman, smiling warmly. "That's good, Eleven. Now tell me what you've been doing, these last few nights. I'm sure it must be very interesting."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Dr. Scofield appeared in Dr. Brenner's office.

"It appears she's made contact. With an outsider, some local boy. She seems to have discovered a method of communication through dreams."

Dr. Brenner looked out the window. "Fascinating," he murmured.

"Yes, quite. It's difficult to know for certain, without conducting any tests, but it seems likely to me that her telepathic abilities are heightened during REM sleep."

"We should begin testing on her immediately, in that case. The power we could unlock…" he broke off, excited by all the possibilities.

"I… wouldn't recommend that," Dr. Scofield cautioned. "The longer she spends dreaming, the more attached she will become to this boy. The experiment will be contaminated, and we run the risk of intelligence leaks, or worse. The more she learns of the outside world, the harder she will be to control. You know where this can lead."

"Yes, yes, you're right. I suppose we must put a stop to it." He tapped his pen on the table in thought. "Any suggestions?"

"We can prepare a kind of sedative for her to take with her evening meal," Dr. Scofield told him. "That should make her sleep dreamlessly, and help encourage… cooperation."

"Alright, then," Dr. Brenner nodded. "Arrange it with the medical staff immediately."


	9. Chapter 9

After she talked with Dr. Scofield, Eleven started to feel a little better. She wasn't used to keeping secrets, and it was a relief to tell someone about her strange new feelings, the things she was discovering about the outside world that she'd never seen. After the session with the doctor, her Papa had given her a kind smile - the first she'd seen from him since she'd disobeyed him in the Bath the other day. He even sat with her while a man dressed in blue trimmed her hair. Eleven thought about telling them that she didn't want her hair short, that she wanted to let it grow the way Mike said it could, but she didn't want to disappoint her Papa again. Besides, there was something about the process of getting her hair cut that she almost enjoyed. It was touch, touch without pain or fear, and a chance for her to rest. She closed her eyes and relaxed, listening to the whirring of the razor.

"Papa? Am I pretty?" she asked, while the man brushed the loose strands from her scalp.

Her Papa looked at her in astonishment. "No," he said curtly. "Who gave you that idea, Eleven?"

Her face fell and she shrugged at the floor, sadly. "I don't know."

"Well, it's not something you should concern yourself with. Outside, people have to be pretty, but here all you need to be is useful."

Eleven perked up at the mention of Outside. It was a topic she had become increasingly curious about. "Papa, what is it like Outside? Could I ever go there?" she asked.

Dr. Brenner frowned. "The outside is dangerous. There are bad people out there, people who want to hurt you. I've told you this, Eleven."

Eleven considered this. "But I'm getting so strong, Papa."

"Yes, well," he smiled at her thinly. "I suppose eventually, if you work very hard and do everything the doctors tell you, it might be possible. But Eleven, you must appreciate what you have. You are well cared for here, and no one ever mistreats you. You have food and a nice quiet bedroom to sleep in. Most children would be so happy to live the way you do."

"Yes, Papa," said Eleven, nodding obediently. But in her head, her thoughts were churning.

Was Papa telling the truth? She felt sure that she would rather be living Outside, with Mike and his friends - but still, she doubted herself. Maybe Papa was right, and that world was full of dangers she couldn't possibly face. Bad men might come after her and she wouldn't be strong enough to stop them.

 _Besides, Papa said you have to be pretty, to live on the Outside._ She frowned at her pale, veiny skin and ran a hand over her short-cropped hair, wondering if maybe Papa was right. Maybe she was better off in here.

That night she was given a cookie at dinner - a rare treat. It was square and tasted dry and slightly hard, but it was sweet, almost as sweet as the waffles Mike had told her about. She closed her eyes and smiled, picturing the plate piled high. She could almost feel the syrup on her fingers.

It wasn't long before she began to feel strange - dizzy and weak, she could barely finish her meal before she felt overwhelmed with nausea. She stood up, her head swimming, and stumbled towards the bed before vomiting on the tiled floor. She looked up at the man who'd brought her meal, but his face was impassive as he called for a cleaning woman.

Eleven lay on her side on her tiny cot, watching weakly as the woman scrubbed the floor. No one uttered any words of sympathy - no one rubbed her back or cleaned her face. No one seemed at all surprised that she was sick. This should have worried her - usually any indication that she was in less than perfect health was treated with alarm, leading to visits with multiple doctors and all kinds of tests she didn't understand - but she was too dizzy to think about it. The harsh lemon scent of the disinfectant made her start to gag, and she closed her eyes, trying to will her stomach to settle down.

"P..apa…pa…pa…" she called out weakly, but she was ignored as the nurses left her alone in her room.

The lights were turned off and her head swam with a sudden oppressive exhaustion. Her tears dried on her cheeks as she drifted into a heavy dreamless sleep.

* * *

Mike woke with a start as his alarm clock buzzed on his dresser. He shook his head, trying to understand why he felt so disconcerted. He turned off the alarm and stood up, glancing at his face in the mirror by his bed. He ran his hand through his matted hair and his stomach dropped in sudden realization.

No dream.

He wracked his brain, trying to think if there was something he had missed, something he had forgotten. He vaguely remembered dreaming about homework, or a fight with his dad, but nothing important. Nothing about her.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, wondering what in the hell he was supposed to do now.

Had she gotten bored with him? Had his demands to see her home been too insistent, too aggressive? Maybe he had frightened her off.

 _She promised._

What if something had gone wrong? What if she was in trouble, or worse? He rubbed his hands together, trying to subdue his own anxiety. There was literally nothing he could do, and it was going to drive him crazy.

* * *

In the morning Eleven still felt tired, with a pounding headache and a hungry, gurgling stomach. She realized that she had not seen Mike, and she felt angry with herself. How could she have gone to sleep without finding him? He would think she had broken her promise. She tried to reach out, but the lights were too bright and her belly was too empty. She sighed, resigned to waiting until night.

Papa was waiting for her in the testing room. "How are you feeling, Eleven? No more silly dreams, I hope?" he said as he hooked a web of sensors around her skull.

"No, Papa," she murmured, frowning. _How does he know?_

"Good," he said, smiling at her. "I want to make sure you get plenty of sleep so you can do well on these tests. Focus," he told her, tapping her on the forehead, "is the most important thing."

"Yes, Papa."

 _They must have done something. They must have kept me from dreaming somehow._ She realized this with dismay. _I never should have trusted her,_ she thought, remembering her conversation with Dr. Scofield. _She told Papa everything._

* * *

Mike went to the AV club room as soon as he got to school, hoping to get a message from El, needing an explanation or some reassurance that she was okay. Instead, all he found was static.

In study period, he rushed to the library and found his friends sitting at their usual table.

"Eleven is missing," he told them as he sat down, dropping his backpack to the floor.

"What are you talking about, Mike?" asked Lucas.

"She stopped coming into my dreams. She's not on the radio. She's just gone." Mike's anxiety was palpable, and the boys looked at each other nervously.

Lucas gave Mike a pat on the shoulder. "Maybe… maybe it's better this way, man."

Mike glared at him. "How can you say that?"

"I mean… we still can't be sure that she exists, you know? At least, in the way you dreamed her. And whoever she is, she's obviously, well…" he let the thought peter out, watching Mike's outraged expression.

"What?" Mike spat out.

"She's… you know… a little bit…"

"Troubled," supplied Will, using a word he'd heard the teachers use.

"Yeah, that," Lucas said.

"She's _not_ troubled. She's _in trouble!_ " Mike exclaimed. "They're keeping her somewhere, you guys. We have to go find her before something awful happens."

"We can't find her on the radio, and she's stopped showing up in your dreams, so how are we supposed to…" Dustin said, frowning.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Mike yelled. Everyone in the library whipped their heads around to stare at him, and the other boys cringed. Mike put his head down on his hands. "We have to try," he muttered, sounding close to tears.

"Okay, okay, fine," Lucas said, guilt in his voice. "We'll help you." He looked at Will. "Have you found anything out about those initials? HNL?"

"Well," Will said, opening his notebook, "I couldn't find much, except…they could stand for Honolulu National Airport? Maybe she's in Hawaii?"

"She said she was in a _bad_ place, Will," Dustin said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sure there are bad places in Hawaii, too," Will said defensively.

"I don't think that's it," Mike said, shaking his head. "I think… I think she's closer than that?"

"How do you know?" asked Will.

"I…don't," Mike admitted. "I just… have a feeling."

* * *

Nancy was surprised when she opened up her locker in the middle of the school day and found a note sticking out from between her textbooks. Written in Steve Harrington's signature scrawl, it read - _"back stairwell, after school. Steve."_

Barb looked over to see what the note said, and Nancy had a powerful feeling of deja vu.

"The nerve of this guy!" Barb frowned, annoyed on behalf of her friend. "After how he treated you…"

Nancy was silent. She was making up her mind. "I'm going to go," she told her friend. "I want to hear what he has to say."

Barb sighed. "Seriously?"

Nancy looked defensive as she placed the note in her pocket. "I'm just being mature."

Her friend crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. "Okay, but I'm going with you."

"What? You are _not_!" Nancy said, her voice going high-pitched as she giggled nervously.

"Look, I'm doing this for your own good," Barb said, smirking. "I've got to make sure he doesn't charm your pants off. You can't let him off the hook just 'cause you think he's dreamy."

Nancy blushed bright red. "Fine. But you better be nice to him."

Barb nodded, then began to gather up her books for English class. "No nicer than he deserves," she muttered to herself.

* * *

After school, Steve Harrington was clearly dismayed when two girls, instead of one, greeted him in the deserted stairwell.

"Hey, Nancy. Hey, uh, Barbara," Steve said, looking at the two of them nervously. "What's going on?"

"Hi, Steve," Nancy said, smiling slightly, while Barb just glared at him.

Steve leaned towards Nancy and put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slightly. "Nance, I was sort of hoping… that we could talk… just us," he said quietly.

"What do you want to talk about?" Barb said loudly.

Steve jumped in surprise while Nancy turned red. "Barb, it's okay…" she mumbled, eyes lowered in embarrassment.

"No, it's not, Nance." She addressed Steve, who looked both baffled, amused, and terrified. "You broke her heart, asshole."

Nancy's eyes flew open and she glared at her friend. "Barb!" She turned back to Steve. "You _didn't_ break my heart."

"Uh… good," Steve said, still unsure of his footing. "So, anyway…"

"But I did feel confused," Nancy said, cutting him off. "Why did you do that?"

"Do… do what?" he asked, looking from one girl to the other and feeling distinctly ganged up on.

Nancy sighed. "Why'd you invite me to your party and then sleep with another girl?"

"Oh, uh, well…" Steve said, scuffing his shoes on the rubber mat of the stairwell, "I just, I guess, it just kinda happened, you know…"

"How does that 'just happen'?" demanded Barb, but Nancy shushed her.

"Do you have anything else to say?" Nancy asked him.

Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I mean, I guess I didn't know how seriously you were taking things."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Nancy, her arms folded.

"Well, we never talked about… being exclusive, you know." He almost looked embarrassed. "I guess… I didn't think you really liked me, all that much."

Nancy frowned. "What?"

"Yeah, I mean…" Steve rubbed his neck nervously. "You kept putting me off, with the whole studying thing, and then you made an excuse to skip the party, and I'm just obviously not your type, so I guess I thought… I don't know what I thought."

"Steve," Nancy said, smiling at him slightly, even through her annoyance. "I like you, okay. I do. What I don't like is hearing stories about your, uh… what's the word…" she turned to Barb.

 _Dick_ , Barb thought.

"Exploits?" Barb suggested.

"Yeah, that." Nancy turned back to Steve. "I don't like hearing about your exploits with other girls. Kinda grosses me out."

"That's fair," Steve said. "Let's say, from now on…" he whispered in her ear, " _you're the only one I get to exploit._ "

Nancy blushed and nodded and Barb sighed and rolled her eyes, and just like that Steve Harrington was once again in their good graces - well, in Nancy's, at least.

* * *

Will biked home slowly, his mind caught up with the mystery of the girl Mike had seen, the girl who said she was a prisoner. He suspected that he was not the only one of the group who was worried about Mike's grip on reality. But what could they do? Mike was their friend, and honestly, he was their leader. They would follow him like they always did, whether it was through a D and D campaign or through something more serious.

He sped down the hill, his hood blowing off in the breeze. He stopped to rearrange it - it was a chilly afternoon, and he'd forgotten his scarf at home - when he looked up and noticed the sign, the sign he'd biked past a thousand times without ever giving it a second glance.

" **No Trespassing - Hawkins National Laboratory"**

He crept towards it, laying his hand on the sign. The aluminum was cold, but that wasn't why he was shivering.

* * *

"Mike! Mike, do you copy? I found something!"

Will's voice crackled through Mike's Supercom, interrupting dinner. Mike stood up with a start.

"Michael, wait until after dinner, okay? Dinner time is family time."

"I'm finished," Mike said quickly, shaking his head. "Please, mom, it's important."

"Well, okay," his mom relented, "but after you talk to Will, come back and help Nancy with the dishes."

"Okay, mom," Mike sighed, standing up and grabbing the walkie-talkie from the sideboard as he hurried to the basement. "Will! What's going on."

"Mike… I think I know… I think I know what it stands for," Will shouted. He sounded out of breath.

"What what stands for?" asked Mike, just before the meaning of Will's words sunk in. "Are you talking about those letters?"

"Yeah," Will said, "I think… it sounds crazy, but I think it's the lab. The government lab out near my house. Hawkins National Laboratory."

"HNL," Mike breathed in realization. He noticed that his hands were shaking. "Okay, are you at your house?"

"Yeah."

"I'm coming over," said Mike. "Tell the others."

* * *

 _A/N: Duh-duh-duh~~~_

 _After I wrote this chapter I realized that Dr. Brenner's tactics for emotional manipulation are weirdly similar to how the witch manipulates Rapunzel in the movie Tangled. It wasn't really a conscious decision on my part to pull from that movie, but I guess I want to acknowledge it just so I'm citing my sources. (While we're on this topic, I also feel like a lot of my inspiration for writing about El's life in the lab comes from the movie Cloud Atlas and the character Sonmi-451. If I think of any other works that I'm drawing from, I'll let you know.)_


	10. Chapter 10

After dinner, Mike was unusually helpful with the dishes, and Nancy looked at him suspiciously. "What are you rushing for?"

"Nothing," Mike said, unconvincingly. Then he sighed. "Fine. I need a ride to Will's."

"Why don't you ask Mom? I'm busy," said Nancy, rolling her eyes.

"I can't… I mean, she'd say no. Because Will's mom won't be home."

Nancy didn't respond, primly drying off a china plate.

"Come on, Nancy," Mike begged. "It'll give you an excuse to get out of the house! I'll put in a good word with Mom."

"Fine," sighed Nancy. "If you can talk her into it."

* * *

On the way to the Byers', Nancy noticed the way Mike was fidgeting, leaning forward as if it would get them there faster. Her eyes narrowed. There was definitely something going on.

"What's the deal, Mike? Why are you acting so weird?"

"Me? I'm not acting weird."

"Yes, you are," said Nancy. When Mike didn't answer, she pushed further. "Look Mike, I know we haven't talked much lately, but I'm still your sister. I know when you're giving me bullshit."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Can you just drive?"

They rode in silence until Mike finally spoke. "Well… there's this girl."

Nancy burst out laughing and almost ran a stop sign.

"What?" demanded Mike, blushing.

"I should've known! Awww, Mikey Mouse has a girlfriend…" Nancy clucked, reaching out as if to pinch his cheek.

"I told you never to call me that," muttered Mike, swatting her hand away. "And it's not like that, anyways."

"Sure, Mike," Nancy said, nodding sarcastically. "So who is this girl? Do you know her from school?"

"Um, sort of," Mike lied.

"And you like her?"

"No!" Mike said, shaking his head forcefully. "Definitely not." His face was red, and even his ears were turning pink.

"Mmm hmm," Nancy grinned. "So what does Will have to do with this?"

"He's helping me," Mike said, shrugging.

"Helping you… with the girl you don't like?" chuckled Nancy

Mike sighed. Part of him wanted to tell her what was going on, but he doubted she would believe him. "You wouldn't get it."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "You're turning into such a teenager."

"You should talk!" scoffed Mike.

They turned onto the gravel drive leading to the Byers house. Nancy put the car in park and turned it off. Mike stared at her.

"Aren't you just dropping me off?"

Nancy shook her head, laughing at his panicked expression. "I'm coming in with you. I have something to talk to Jonathan about… plus I've got to make sure you're not getting into any trouble with these friends of yours."

Mike looked nervous. "Why… why would we cause trouble?"

Nancy mussed his hair, causing him to yelp in protest. "I'm just joking, Mike. You've never caused trouble in your life."

"Oh, yeah, um… good one," Mike said, fidgeting in his seat.

They rang the doorbell and Jonathan answered. He had been expecting Mike, but seeing Nancy was something of a shock. "Uh… hey guys," he said, wiping his hands on his shirt nervously.

"Hi, Jonathan!" Mike said, walking right past him into the living room as if he owned the place. "Where's Will?"

Jonathan ignored him, still focused on Nancy - much to her discomfort.

"I was, uh, giving him a ride," Nancy explained awkwardly, gesturing towards the direction Mike had gone.

"Gotcha. Cool," Jonathan said, staring at her. "Well, thanks for… uh… stopping by." He began to close the door.

"Yeah, well…" Nancy blushed, not sure why she felt so nervous. "You hungry?" she blurted out.

"Hungry? Uh, why?" Jonathan asked.

"Um, because I've been grounded all week, and I finally got an excuse to go out, so…" she shrugged, feeling idiotic. Why am I doing this?

"Oh," he said. "Sure."

They stared at each other for another moment.

Nancy cracked a smile. "Let's go?"

These words woke Jonathan from his trance and he chuckled slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. "Will, I'm going out," he called behind him, as he followed Nancy out the door. He realized halfway to the car that he had forgotten his jacket, but he was too afraid of looking ridiculous to say anything.

Meanwhile, the boys gathered in Will's living room to talk over his discovery.

"I've always felt like that place gave me the creeps," Dustin said. "Like, remember that time we were biking down that hill on Mirkwood, and there was that loud booming sound coming from the forest?"

The other boys shook their head.

"Sure it wasn't thunder?" asked Lucas.

"No way! It was louder than that, and it was sunny out, too," Dustin said.

"You know what I think is weird?" Will said. "That place is some kind of lab, right? With the Department of Energy. So how come our school has never done a field trip there? I mean, we've gone to the plastics factory and the courthouse and the old coal mines AND the landfill. Why not this place?"

"My dad says it's run by the military," Mike said. "He thinks they make weapons and stuff. But I really think she's in there."

"I still say it could be a coincidence," Lucas said, frowning. "Why would the government, or the military, be keeping some girl hostage?"

Mike bit his lip. He didn't want to break his promise to El, but he needed them to understand. "There are reasons," he said, staring at his hands.

Dustin looked at him, suspicious. "What kind of reasons?"

Mike sighed. "I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone." The boys glanced at each other, their eyes wide. "I think she has… abilities."

"Abilities?" asked Will.

"Like the dream thing," Mike said, hoping they'd leave it alone. He wondered if they'd even believe him, if he told them the rest. "She's some kind of psychic, basically."

"A psychic. Now I've heard everything," Lucas said, sighing.

"And you think she's in there?" asked Dustin.

Mike nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? She told me she was from Indiana. She talked about doctors… maybe those were the scientists? And they've got super high security, obviously."

"So what are we supposed to do?" asked Will. "Call the cops?"

"They'd never believe you," Lucas said. "Plus, if it's really run by the military, there's not much they can do about what goes on in there."

Mike nodded, looking resolute. "We need to get inside."

"How in the hell are we supposed to do that?" asked Lucas. "You said it yourself, the security there is insane. Plus, we don't even know for sure that she's in there. You're gonna get us all arrested over nothing."

"Lucas…" Mike began, wanting to argue.

"Unless you know for sure, we're not going anywhere," Lucas said, crossing his arms.

"I think Lucas is right," agreed Will, quietly. "We should do more research." He ran to his bedroom and returned with an armful of encyclopedias.

"What are we going to find in there?" asked Dustin. "They're not going to have an entry on Hawkins Lab."

"No, but they have stuff about the Department of Energy. Anyways, it's what we've got. The library might have more, but it's closed for the night."

Dustin and Lucas nodded, each picking up a volume and beginning to flip through the pages. Will looked at Mike apologetically, who sighed and nodded, grabbing a book from the pile.

* * *

Jonathan and Nancy pulled into the gravel parking lot of Benny's Diner, a local greasy spoon that looked more like a repurposed ranch house than a real restaurant. The "establishment" probably broke all kinds of zoning laws and had never had a health inspection, but nobody in the area complained - the french fries were just that good.

Benny was flipping burgers when they entered, but Jonathan sat down at a rickety table in the corner and motioned Nancy over.

"What is this place?" Nancy asked. Her family rarely went out to eat, but when they did, it was to the Italian bistro next to the movie theater or the Mexican restaurant in the mall.

"You've never been to Benny's?" Jonathan asked, looking at her in shock. He grinned. "You'll like it."

The barrel-chested man in a white t-shirt and patched jeans, who Nancy assumed was Benny, approached them, wiping his hands on a rag. "Hey there, Jon. How's your ma doing these days?"

Jonathan shrugged, shaking his head with a grin. "Same as always. Working too hard."

Benny smiled. "That's Joyce for ya. What about your old man? He still in Indianapolis?"

Jonathan's face tightened. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm," Benny said, looking uncomfortable. He scratched his forehead and changed the subject. "Well, nice of you to stop by. What can I getcha?"

Jonathan gestured to Nancy. She blanched. "Isn't there a menu?"

Benny and Jonathan glanced at each other, trying to keep a straight face.

"What?" asked Nancy, feeling self-conscious.

"That's not… well…at a place like this…" Jonathan tried to explain.

"I make burgers here, miss," Benny said, smiling toothily. "Just tell me what ya want."

"Oh. Uh… how about a cheeseburger. Well done," Nancy said, blushing.

"I'll have the same," Jonathan said. "And fries."

"Sure thing, kid," said Benny, going to the grill.

It wasn't long before he brought them their meal - two grease soaked cheeseburgers and a basket of fries, as well as a bottle of beer and two plastic cups.

"Doesn't he know we're not allowed to drink?" Nancy whispered to Jonathan, her eyes bugging out.

Jonathan laughed. "Benny's been serving me beer since I turned fifteen. He says it makes the burgers taste better, and that kids should learn how to drink before they start running wild."

He took a swig, grimacing at the slightly sour taste. Jonathan didn't like the idea of drinking, as a rule - reminded him too much of his father, and the way he always used alcohol as an excuse to do whatever he wanted - but at the moment, he was kind of desperate for something to do with his hands. Plus, a part of him hoped that this would help calm the anxious voice in his head telling him _don't fuck this up, you're hanging out with Nancy fucking Wheeler._

He passed the bottle to her, and felt a flush of admiration when she took a swig of her own without any hesitation. He could tell from her expression, though, that she wasn't nearly as experienced a drinker as she was pretending to be. He smiled. There was something undeniably cute about the whole thing.

Nancy studied him, calculating something. "Hey, so… you wouldn't tell, like, Steve and them all that stuff I said the other day? I was in kind of a weird mood, and I think I… exaggerated a little."

Jonathan laughed darkly. "Oh, that's a tough one. Steve Harrington and I tell each other everything, we're just such close friends."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Jonathan took a handful of fries and dipped them in ketchup. "So what's with the change of heart? He get you roses or something?" He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"No!" Nancy said, indignant. "I just… I realized he's got a lot of stuff going on." She shrugged awkwardly, feeling transparent.

"Sure," said Jonathan, clearly unconvinced.

"He's actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him."

"I'll take your word for it."

Nancy smiled, raising her eyebrows as she sipped her beer. She got the feeling that Jonathan was jealous, and for some reason she didn't really mind.

They ate their burgers in companionable silence, Nancy thoroughly enjoying her first ever Benny's Diner meal. She wiped a paper napkin over her mouth, and licked the salt from her fingers. "So, any idea what our brothers are up to? Mike seemed pretty worked up about something on the way over."

Jonathan shrugged. "Who knows. Will was asking if I knew anything about that lab outside of town. I think they're working on some kind of story. Like a sci-fi thing."

"Did he say anything about a girl?" asked Nancy.

"A girl?" repeated Jonathan, frowning. "No, I don't think so." He chuckled. "I don't think those kids have talked to a girl in years."

"True," agreed Nancy. She watched Jonathan smile, his green eyes seeming to sparkle just for her, and wondered why they were talking about her brother, anyway.

Without thinking it through, she reached out and wiped a bit of ketchup from the corner of his mouth. Jonathan stared at her and she blushed, grinning. "You had a spot…" she explained weakly.

"Hey Nance!" someone shouted from across the empty restaurant. She turned in her chair and saw Steve staring at her, flanked by Tommy and Carol.

"Oh, hey, Steve," Nancy said, standing up so quickly that her chair almost fell over. She felt guilty but tried to shake it off. She hadn't done anything wrong, not really.

"I thought you were grounded," he said, raising his eyebrows. Tommy whispered something to Carol, who snickered.

"I… I was," Nancy said. "My mom let me out to give my brother a ride to Jonathan's. And then we were hungry, so… yeah," she finished lamely, staring at the floor.

Steve's mouth tightened as he looked at her. "Can we talk, for a second? Outside?"

"Y…yeah. Sure," Nancy mumbled, glancing up at him nervously.

Tommy and Carol began to follow them, but Steve gave them a look and they got the hint, sitting down at a table and smirking at Jonathan while he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.

Outside the restaurant, Steve lit a cigarette silently while Nancy eyed him, crossing her arms in front of her in a defiant posture.

Finally, Steve spoke. "If you're gonna be my girlfriend, you can't be hanging out with guys like Byers."

Nancy's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

Steve sighed. "Nancy… you know what I mean. He's not _normal_."

"You've never even _talked_ to him, Steve!" Nancy objected. Her face was turning red.

"Yeah, that's because he doesn't talk to anyone! It's disturbing, the way he skulks around school."

"He's just shy," Nancy said. "Is that a crime now?"

"No, of course not…" sighed Steve, shoving his hand in his pocket and feeling like he was losing the argument, somehow. He tried a different tack. "Anyway, it makes me look like an ass when you go around with some other guy. My friends were already giving me a hard time…"

Nancy fumed, indignant. "Honestly, Steve, am I your property or something? Jonathan's my friend. Nothing else is going on."'

Steve looked at her sideways, obviously trying to tell if she was being sincere. Finally, he took a deep breath and dropped his cigarette on the ground, putting it out with his heel. He gave her a small smile, relenting. "Yeah, okay."

Nancy smiled back, rolling her eyes. "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington."

"Can't help it," he murmured, wrapping his arm around her and leaning into her hair. "You're too cute, it makes me stupid."

She laughed. "I like that explanation."

"Good," he said. "Now, should I give you a ride home? I might get lost a couple times, you know…" he murmured, smirking.

Nancy glanced up at the windows of the restaurant. Jonathan was watching her warily, and looked away as soon as she spotted him. She felt a small twinge of some emotion she couldn't quite name, but told herself it didn't matter. Steve was her boyfriend - he'd said it himself - and that was what she wanted. "Sure," she said, squeezing Steve's hand. _I'll apologize to Jonathan tomorrow._

* * *

 _I have to fight it, tonight,_ El told herself, but in the end, she was too frightened and hungry to refuse her dinner. When the nausea hit she collapsed on the bed but fought to keep her eyes open. But she just wasn't strong enough.

* * *

The boys circled for hours around the same couple of options, trying to find an answer. Call the authorities? No one would believe them. Try to contact El? They had no way to do so. Break into the lab? Far too dangerous, especially with no solid evidence that she was really there.

The books didn't help much either. The Department of Energy, as far as this encyclopedia was concerned, was a completely innocuous entity with no habits of immoral experimentation. Lucas learned that successful escape attempts require a detailed schematic of the prison complex and several months planning, at least. Mike and Dustin discovered that there had never been a verified instance of either dream sharing or telekinesis, and such things were considered impossible by most, if not all, experts in the psychological fields.

They didn't exactly plan on having a sleepover, but as it got later and later and Nancy and Jonathan still hadn't returned, everyone, even Mike, started dozing off. He was exhausted from worrying, wracking his brain looking for a solution. He fell asleep listening to Dustin's snores, and the last thing he thought of before he drifted off was Eleven.

* * *

Mike was in a dimly lit hallway. He had a feeling like he was deep underground - it was oppressively quiet. Everything was ugly, antiseptic, like a hospital almost.

"Eleven?" he shouted. "Eleven, where are you?"

Nothing except the echo of his own voice answered back.

He began to walk forward, slowly at first before breaking into a run. He heard a loud clattering, shrieking sound ahead and followed it. Soon he found the source of the noise - a room filled with animal cages, where cats, birds, mice, and a few monkeys all fought to drown each other out with their respective calls. He slowly approached one of the monkeys, but backed off quickly when it bared its teeth.

He continued, past rooms full of beeping machines and black-and-white diagrams. He noticed the words "Property of Hawkins National Laboratory" stamped in bold letters on almost all the equipment.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he found a sign that read "Ward 011." It felt like a clue, so he followed the arrows left to a heavy iron door that had been left slightly ajar.

"El!" he cried out. She was lying on a tiny bed - more like a cot - in the corner of the room. Her eyes were closed, and she was perfectly still.

The room was cold, with tiled floors and cement walls, like a prison. There was a security camera in the ceiling with a red blinking light, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He rushed to the bed, clutching at El's hand. "El! Eleven! What's wrong? Wake up! Please wake up!"

Her eyelids fluttered and he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "El! El! I'm here, are you okay?"

El's eyes were dazed, tired, and she blinked slowly, staring at him "Mike?" she whispered.

"Yeah, it's me. What's - what's wrong with you? Are you sick?" he asked, his voice tense with fear.

She tried to nod her head, but she could barely move. "Y…yes" she sighed.

"What is it?" Mike asked.

"They… hurt me. Did… something. They don't… don't want me to… to see you," she slurred, sounding tired and out of breath, as if she was just on the edge of passing out.

"Who did? The scientists? Papa?" he spit the name out harshly.

She nodded slightly. Mike gripped the side of her cot, trying to keep his temper under control.

"But I'm here," he murmured. "You… still brought me. How?"

"I… promised…" she said, smiling weakly.

She clutched at his hand and he kneeled beside her bed. "I'm coming, El," he told her. "I'm going to come get you."

She smiled as if she understood, but her strength was almost gone. She could barely lift her head to look at him. Her eyes fluttered closed and Mike felt an intense wave of vertigo as the room began to dissolve around him.

 _"El! El, wait! El!"_

* * *

Mike woke up on Will's living room couch, in a cold sweat, with his friends staring at him.

"Are you okay, Mike? You were muttering like crazy!" Lucas said, looking worried.

Mike stood up abruptly. His head swam but he ignored it as he began to look around the room. "Will, do you have any extra flashlights?"

"Yeah, I guess," Will said, confused. Then his eyes widened in understanding. "You saw her, didn't you?"

Mike nodded. "She's at the lab, and she's in trouble. We have to go. _Now_."


	11. Chapter 11

Lucas stared at his friends in disbelief. "Are we seriously going to just barge into a government facility based on a dream that you had?"

"Yes," said Mike. "Come on, you said you wanted confirmation. Well, I just got it." He looked at Will. "Is your brother back yet?"

Will shook his head. "I would've heard his car come up the drive."

"What about your mom?"

The boy checked his watch. "She'll be home in a couple hours. The store stays open late on Friday night."

"Well, then let's go," Mike said. "Does everyone have a supercomm?"

The boys all nodded, but Will looked worried. "What's my mom going to think if she gets home and I'm gone? She'll kill me."

Mike shook his head. "We'll worry about that after we rescue El."

The next ten minutes were a flurry of packing and preparation. Dustin was disappointed in the severe lack of acceptable snack foods in Will's pantry, while Lucas was more concerned about the fact that they had no weapons and no solid plan.

Finally Mike got fed up with his friend's hand-wringing. "Lucas, come on. We'll figure it out when we get there, okay?"

Dustin agreed. "Yeah, and if we get caught, we'll just tell them we got lost. We're kids - they're not gonna suspect us of anything."

"Exactly," Mike nodded. "Now are you coming with us or not?"

"Fine," Lucas sighed. "But I'm bringing my wrist-rocket just in case."

* * *

The boys left the door to Will's house unlocked and scrambled through the forest towards Hawkins Lab, their flashlights leading the way. It wasn't long, however, until they encountered their first obstacle.

"Shit. I forgot about the gate," Mike groaned, staring forlornly at the chain link fence that split through the woods, blocking their approach. He pushed and pulled at the metal links but the structure didn't budge.

Dustin sighed. "What do we do now?"

Lucas examined the gate carefully, thinking it over. After a careful appraisal, he found a padlock that linked two ends of the fence together.

"We'll need to pick this lock," he said. "Does anyone have a bobby pin?"

The boys looked at each other. "What's a bobby pin?" asked Dustin.

Lucas rolled his eyes. "It's like a metal stick that girls use to put their hair up. My sister always has a ton of them. They're great for picking locks."

"Do we look like girls to you?" asked Dustin.

"Yeah, actually, you do," quipped Lucas, earning him a punch in the arm.

"Guys, focus," Mike said, annoyed. "So what can we use if we don't have any bobby pins?"

Dustin rooted around in his backpack. "Ah-ha!" he shouted. "How about… a paper clip?"

Lucas's face lit up. "That'll work."

He grabbed the tool from Dustin and bent it out of shape. Then he inserted it into the padlock, jimmying it back and forth.

It wasn't long until the others grew frustrated. "What's taking so long?" asked Mike.

"Sorry, it's just… not a great angle," complained Lucas, biting his tongue as he tried to get the lock to catch. "Ugh, I don't think this is gonna work."

The boys groaned. "What now?" asked Will.

"Well," Lucas thought, tapping his foot, "If I could get to the other side of the fence, I could probably get at the padlock better."

Dustin sighed. "Lucas, if we could get to the other side, we wouldn't need to break the lock. What are you talking about?"

Lucas grinned. "You'll see."

He handed the paperclip back to Dustin, then hurriedly threw off his jacket and backpack and began to scan the forest. A few yards away there was a tree whose branches hung low over the fence. Perfect.

Lucas anchored himself below the tree and jumped, hanging off of one of the bottom branches. He swung his body forward and braced himself on the trunk, scrambling up and onto a large, low hanging branch.

The boys watched as he inched along the branch over the top of the fence, then swung down and landed lightly on the other side.

He grinned at their awestruck expressions and took a bow. "Dustin, paperclip please?" He held out his hand.

Dustin passed him the paperclip through the gap in the fence, and Lucas tried once again to pick the lock.

Click. The padlock opened and Lucas unwound it from the gate. The boys pushed on the fence until it gave, and then shimmied through the gap one by one.

"Nice work, Lucas," said Mike.

Lucas smirked. "I told you, you should've joined Cub Scouts with me!"

* * *

Nancy sat up in the backseat of Steve's car, adjusting her camisole and running her hands through her hair while Steve snored softly beside her. She pulled a hand mirror out of her purse and studied her face carefully, almost wondering if she would look any different, now that she had done… _it_.

She wasn't sure what she had expected, exactly. Not rose-petals and candlelight and a hallelujah chorus, of course - she wasn't that naive - but still, something more than this. She always thought sex would make her feel grown up, but instead she felt weirdly vulnerable.

It wasn't Steve's fault, not really. He'd acted like a gentleman when he'd needed to, and his expertise had been welcome when she felt totally clueless about how to proceed. But now so many things were running through her head - everything she'd heard said in school or on TV, about how guys only cared about one thing, how they never respected girls who were easy…

Steve grunted and seemed to stir beside her. "Nancy?" he mumbled. "You okay?"

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Yeah," she said. "I just need to head home."

"Oh… are you sure?" asked Steve, looking disappointed. His expression made Nancy smile.

"I don't want my mom to get suspicious," she explained.

Steve nodded as he hunted around under the driver's seat for his pants. "I'll, um, I'll drive you."

"Actually, can you take me back to Jonathan's?" Nancy asked. "I left my car there."

"Sure," Steve said, frowning as he remembered their earlier argument. He hopped out of the backseat and slid into his jeans before getting behind the wheel. Nancy climbed in next to him on the passenger's side, nervously smoothing her hair and rubbing her shoulders. Impulsively, Steve grabbed her hand, making her blush. "Hey, Nance, seriously. You okay?"

Nancy looked at him sideways, biting her lip. "Yeah, yeah, definitely. No big deal." She shrugged, trying to seem casual.

Steve chuckled. "You're cute when you lie."

She opened her mouth to argue but he interrupted her with a kiss. "I had a good time," he whispered before pulling away.

Nancy smiled, her blush deepening. "Me too."

* * *

It was past midnight when Steve dropped Nancy off at the Byers', so she was surprised to see that all the lights in the house were on.

Jonathan came bounding out of the front door towards her, anxiety etched on his face. He stared down at her intently, and she shrunk away slightly on instinct. Her first impulse was to wonder if he could tell what she had just done… although of course he couldn't, and it wasn't any of his business anyway.

"Hey, Jon, I'm sorry, for, uh, leaving you at the diner… I just…" she shrugged, trying to think of a good excuse or explanation.

He interrupted her, his voice raspy and desperate with worry. "Nancy, have you… have you seen Mike? Or Will, or the others?"

She tilted her head. "What are you talking about? They've been at here at your place all night, haven't they?" She gestured towards the house.

His shoulders slumped and he ran his hands through his hair. "No they - they're missing. They ran off someplace."

Nancy felt her heart begin to race as the meaning of his words sunk in. "They ran off? Where would they go?"

"I don't know," moaned Jonathan in despair, wringing his hands. "After you left me at the diner, I wandered around for a bit, just sort of thinking about things and taking photos and stuff, and then I drove back here about a half an hour ago, and they were gone. They took all the flashlights and raided the fridge." He frowned. "My mom is going to lose her mind."

Nancy collapsed on the steps of the porch, trying to concentrate. "Have you looked anywhere yet?"

Jonathan nodded before sitting down beside her. "I checked Will's treehouse and I called the Henderson's and the Sinclair's. Nothing."

Nancy's eyes widened. "You told their parents that they're missing?"

Jonathan coughed. "No… I, uh, pretended to be from the school." He chuckled darkly. "I did an accent."

Nancy raised an eyebrow. "That I'd like to see." Then she bit her lip, regretting the semi-flirtatious comment. "Well, anyway, if they aren't at another house, where are they?"

Jonathan sighed. "I don't know. And if my mom finds out we left them alone, she'll kill me."

"I don't want my mom finding out about this either," Nancy said, cringing. She thought for a moment, then nodded decisively. "They obviously went somewhere on purpose, right?"

"Right…" said Jonathan, confused.

"So they had a plan," Nancy said. "They weren't kidnapped or something, you know?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Jonathan agreed. "But they're still missing. Who knows what could happen…"

"Look, Jonathan, they can't be far. They didn't even bring their bikes," she said, gesturing to the front lawn. Sure enough, Lucas and Dustin's bikes were laying on the ground, dew already gathering on the seats. "They're smart kids, they'll be fine." Nancy stood up and began to walk to her car, but Jonathan was close behind.

"What are you saying, Nancy?" he asked, an edge of anger in his voice. "We should just forget about it and hope they come home before our moms find out? They could be hurt out there! They could've fallen into the quarry, or gotten into some kind of trouble…"

Nancy put a hand on his shoulder, quieting him. "Look, I know, okay? We've got to find them, you're right. But getting the adults involved won't help. At least not yet." She opened the car door. "I'll tell my mom that I left Mike at your place."

"And what do I tell my mom?" asked Jonathan, frowning.

"That the kids all came over to my place," she suggested, stepping into the car.

"That's not going to work for very long," Jonathan reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, Jonathan. Listen, I'll come by tomorrow morning. If they're not back by then, I'll help you look for them myself." With that, she shut the door and peeled out of the driveway, silently cursing her unbelievably stupid little brother. _What the hell have you gotten yourself into this time, Michael Wheeler?_

* * *

As the boys approached the hulking towers of Hawkins Lab, Mike felt the pit in his stomach grow heavier and heavier. The idea of breaking in to rescue Eleven had seemed simple enough on the surface - he'd seen his heroes do things like this many times on TV or in movies - but the reality of what they were trying to do was setting in, and he wondered if they had any hope of pulling this off. More than once, he thought about suggesting to the others that they turn back, maybe try again once they were better supplied and had more information about the building, but when he pictured El's face from the dream - how pale and hopeless she had looked - he knew he couldn't turn back, not in a million years. She _needed_ him. What else could he do?

They snuck towards the main entrance, watching as two men in white lab coats held their badges up to some kind of card-scanning mechanism that caused the door to swing open in front of them.

Dustin gasped. "Whoa! I've been reading about those kind of machines but I've never seen one."

"Do you think you can figure out how to break into it?" Mike whispered.

Dustin considered this. "Well, maybe… if I had a strong magnet. But I didn't think to bring one…" he frowned.

Immediately, Will unzipped his backpack and hunted around inside. He pulled out a small metal rectangle. "Like this?" he asked.

"Perfect!" said Dustin, grinning widely. He grabbed it and motioned them all forward as he approached the access panel by the door.

They held their breath as Dustin waved the magnet in front of the panel.

The door swung open and the boys had to keep themselves from shouting in victory. Dustin looked extremely satisfied with himself as they tiptoed into the building, looking around and squinting in the florescent light.

"Now what?" asked Lucas, tapping his feet nervously.

Mike pointed at the stairwell across the hall. "C'mon!"

The boys followed him down the stairs, their footsteps echoing loudly.

As they reached the basement of the building, Mike was immediately hit with a powerful wave of deja-vu. Something about this space, these hallways… it all seemed so familiar, exactly like what he'd seen in his dream. He knew - he just knew - they were on the right track.

"Where are we going, Mike?" Dustin whispered anxiously.

Mike shushed him. "Just keep a look out. She's definitely around here somewhere." He studied the cryptic signs on the walls, trying to remember which direction to turn. "Eleven?" he whispered, wondering if she could hear him. "Eleven?" His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, a little louder this time.

There was no answer, no movement anywhere, and Mike turned back to the group, looking resolved. "I think we should split up."

Dustin shook his head. "No way. We've got to stick together. Remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "This isn't some game, Dustin. This is real life. We need to cover as much ground as possible."

"I don't know," Will said, looking nervous.

Lucas tightened his bandana and clapped Will on the back. "Mike is right. We'll be better off if we split up. We've got the supercomms, so we can reach each other if we find her or if something bad happens." He pointed in front of them, down the hallway. "Mike and I will go this way, and you two go back the other way and make a right at the stairs."

"Nobody's going anywhere," said a deep male voice from behind them.

The next thing Mike knew, he was on the ground, gasping, the wind knocked out of him. Someone was restraining him, putting his hands in cuffs.

"Let me go!" he screamed, kicking at his attacker. He couldn't turn his head, but he could hear his friends engaging in similar struggles nearby. It was useless. They were outnumbered and overpowered.

The man who had spoken before laughed mirthlessly. "Usually, trespassers are killed on sight. But since you're all children, I suppose we'll have to make an exception." He turned to a guard. "Is there an interrogation room prepared?"

The guard balked. "Sir, these are just kids… shouldn't we just bring 'em back to their parents? Why would they need to be interrogated?"

The man frowned, glaring at the guard. "Don't be a fool, Jeffrey. These 'kids' aren't going anywhere until we find out what they know, what they've seen… and who, exactly, they work for."

The man signaled to the guards and Mike felt a biting pain in the side of his neck, before the world went black and he spiraled out of consciousness.


	12. Chapter 12

"Mike! Mike, wake up! Come on, man!"

Mike heard Dustin calling his name and felt a surge of dizziness and disorientation. Where was he? And why did he feel like he'd been hit in the head with a brick? He sat up, blinking until his vision cleared. There wasn't much light, but he saw Dustin and Lucas leaning over him, looking relieved.

"Mike! Are you okay? You've been out for a while," said Lucas.

"What… what happened?" mumbled Mike groggily. "Where are we?"

Dustin shrugged. "Somewhere in Hawkins Lab, I think. We all got knocked out, they gave us some kind of tranquilizer. I was the first to wake up, then Lucas… Will is still sleeping."

"Hawkins Lab…" Mike repeated. It was coming back to him now - El, the rescue mission, the guards.

He sat up, wincing, and looked around the room. They were in a dark cell with no windows. The space was partitioned with a row of closely laid iron bars that kept them away from the single point of entry - a steel door on the opposite side of the room. There was a camera on the ceiling, and another in the far corner.

Mike rubbed his forehead, trying to think.

How the hell did they actually end up in this situation? It felt more like a movie or a tv show than real life, but the reality of it was terrifying. Mike turned to look at Will, who was beginning to stir.

"Will! Will, wake up!" he said, squeezing his friend's shoulders.

Will sat up, blinking at them. He looked around the room and groaned something unintelligible.

"What was that?" asked Dustin.

"I said, my mom really _is_ gonna kill me," Will repeated, looking a bit green. "What kind of mess did we get into this time?"

"I _told_ you, we should've had a plan," Lucas said, glaring at Mike. "Now we're _never_ gonna get out of here."

Mike shook his head. "They can't just hold us prisoner forever!"

"Says who?" asked Lucas angrily. "Your stupid imaginary girlfriend?"

"Don't call her that!" Mike shouted, pushing Lucas backward.

"Or what?" said Lucas, shoving Mike in return.

Dustin grabbed their arms, trying to keep them apart. "Stop it! This isn't helping."

"Get off me, Dustin," Lucas said, wrenching his arm away. Mike did the same.

"Guys. GUYS!" shouted Will. They turned to stare at him - Will wasn't usually the type to yell.

He pointed a shaking hand at the door handle on the other side of the room. It was turning.

The door swung open to reveal a dark-haired man in a suit, followed by a nurse and a security guard. The guard shut the door behind them and bolted it. The dark-haired man switched on an overhead light.

"Let us go!" Mike yelled at them, pushing at the iron bars. The other boys followed his lead.

"We didn't do anything!" said Dustin. "You have to let us out."

"Yeah," said Lucas, "My dad's gonna sue your asses!"

"Who are you?" asked Will. "Why are we in here?"

The dark-haired man chuckled and lit a cigarette. "I don't think you children understand the severity of the situation you are in. You've broken into a highly restricted government building. You've tampered with Department of Energy property. You've interfered with and contaminated some extremely delicate experiments, experiments that are designed with the sole purpose of keeping our nation safe. These are all federal crimes."

The other boys stared at the man fearfully, but Lucas nearly spat in frustration. "Bullshit!" he shouted. "You don't scare us. If we're criminals, call the police. Call Chief Hopper and see what he says. You can't just keep us here."

The man laughed. "I like this one," he commented to the guard, pointing at Lucas. He took another drag on his cigarette.

"Alright boys, it's time to talk. What the hell are you doing in here, anyway?"

The kids looked at each other, and Mike shook his head slightly. They all remained silent. The dark-haired man scowled.

"That's not what I like to hear." He dropped his cigarette on the floor and put it out with his heel. "You!" he called out, pointing at Will, who cowered slightly. "What's your name?"

"Will… William Byers, sir," Will choked out, eyes wide.

"Alright, William. Let's see what you have to say." The man gestured to the guards over his shoulder. One pulled out a ring of keys - the other, a gun. They opened the gate and rushed in, grabbing Will by the shoulder and dragging him roughly out of the enclosure.

"No! Let him go!"

Dustin, Mike and Lucas tried to stop them, shouting and pushing, but the guards were too strong. One kicked Dustin to the floor while the other brandished his weapon at Mike and Lucas.

Will's face had turned white, and the guard had him in a grip that looked like it could dislocate his shoulder. He whipped his head back and forth, struggling to get free.

"Stop! Stop, you're hurting him!" Mike screamed. "Let him go!" The men ignored him.

"Okay, William. Let's go have a little chat," the man laughed. "Take him to the interrogation room," he told the guard, who nodded curtly.

"Wait! Wait, don't take him. He doesn't know anything!" Mike yelled, pounding on the bars. "It was all my idea! Seriously, leave him alone! Take me instead!"

"Mike, no," said Lucas, grabbing Mike by the arm. Will shook his head, glaring in Mike's direction. Mike ignored them. He saw that the men were looking at him and he smiled, trying to fight away his own fear.

"It's me you guys want to talk to!" he continued, quieter this time. "Let him go."

The dark-haired man studied Mike carefully, then nodded. "Alright, then. _What_ was your idea?"

Mike swallowed nervously. "Coming here."

The man leaned in closer. His eyes were cold and he stunk of nicotine. "Why did you come here, then?"

Mike took a deep breath.

"We were just… looking around."

"What exactly were you looking for?" the man asked, his eyes narrowed.

Mike gulped and blurted out the first thing he could think of. "Um, like… aliens?"

The man looked at him incredulously. "Aliens?"

Mike nodded quickly. "Yeah, you know, I heard that, there were like, aliens here. Like from, um, UFOs?" His voice cracked.

"UFOs," the man repeated. "You broke into the compound because you were looking for UFOs?"

"Uh-huh," Mike said, hoping he sounded sincere. Behind him, his friends had begun to catch on, nodding and voicing their agreement.

"Alright, hold on," the man said, scowling. He addressed his guards. "Watch them. I'll be right back." With that, he left the room, muttering something about "stupid kids" and "waste of time."

* * *

Dr. Brenner was sipping from a mug of black coffee and writing up his weekly field report when the security chief came through his office door.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said. "May I take a seat?"

"Yes, yes, go ahead," Brenner told him, waving his hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We had a security breach this morning, sir. We're still trying to determine the chain of events, but essentially, a group of intruders broke into the main building."

Brenner narrowed his eyes. "What kind of intruders?"

"Well, sir… to be perfectly frank, it's a bit embarrassing for all involved. Somehow… somehow four boys got to the A-3 sector of the main basement."

"Boys?" Brenner repeated. "In A-3?" He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Lawrence, honestly. How the _hell…_ " He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Alright, well, you're investigating what happened?"

"Yes, sir," Lawrence said quickly. "We're reviewing the tapes and the night watchmen's logs."

"Where are the boys now?"

"They're being held for questioning."

"Any theories on a motive?"

The guard shrugged. "They're kids. Chances are they did it on a dare." He checked his notes. "One of them is claiming they were looking for aliens, but none of us really believe that."

Dr. Brenner tapped his pen against his desk. "Well, do background checks on each of them - thorough ones. And have the surveillance room tap into the family phone lines, if they can. In the meantime, let's go take a look at the tapes."

They were almost out the door when the red phone on Brenner's desk rang. He turned and stared at it for a moment before rushing over to answer.

"This is Martin Brenner," he said into the speaker. "Yes, sir."

The guard paced nervously while Dr. Brenner listened to the man on the phone, nodding and scribbling notes. "Yes, sir. Absolutely. By Monday we should be…"

The voice on the phone got louder and Dr. Brenner cringed. "I see. I see. Alright, then. We'll begin right away. You can have confidence that we…"

A loud dial tone sounded as the other party hung up. Dr. Brenner scowled, bracing his arms against his desk and looking like he wanted to kick something.

The guard knew better than to ask. Dr. Brenner pushed a button on the side of his desk. "Lenora?"

The voice on the intercom answered promptly. "Yes, Doctor?"

"Have maintenance prep the SD tank for an operation, and have med and intel teams standing by. Make sure subject Eleven eats something and gets vitals taken."

"What time is the op?" the assistant asked.

Dr. Brenner checked his watch and sighed. "1400 hours, Lenora. If at all possible. Washington's really breathing down my neck on this one."

"Understood, Doctor."

* * *

Joyce Byers was awoken up early on Saturday morning by a phone call. She had half a mind to ignore the annoying ringing sound entirely, but she knew that sometimes her boss would call if he needed her to pick up an extra shift. With the holidays just around the corner, she was trying to work as much overtime as possible so that she could get Jonathan some new shoes and an Atari for Will. She pushed the covers down and crawled out of bed and into the kitchen, shivering at the morning cold.

"Hello?" she answered, stifling a yawn.

It wasn't her boss. "Hi, Ms. Byers, um, sorry to bother you. It's Nancy. Is Jonathan there?"

"Nancy?" Joyce frowned. She couldn't remember Nancy ever calling their house before - and it wasn't exactly normal for a teenager to be up this early on a Saturday. "Uh…I think he's still sleeping, actually. I can tell him to call you, when he wakes up?"

"Oh, well, actually…" Nancy said, sounding uncomfortable, "could you maybe, wake him up? I, uh, really have to talk to him. Sorry."

Joyce raised her eyebrows. _What is this about?_ "I see… well, let me check." She put the phone down on the counter and went to knock on Jonathan's bedroom door.

Jonathan answered the door quickly, looking surprisingly alert and a bit nervous. Joyce was taken aback. "Oh, Jonathan… Nancy Wheeler is calling for you. She said it was important, but I don't know…"

Jonathan nodded. "Thanks, mom." He rushed into the kitchen to the phone cradle, then froze, turning to look at her over his shoulder.

Joyce got the hint. As much as she'd like to snoop, she remembered what it was like to be that age. Besides, she trusted her son. "I'm going back to sleep, okay sweetie?"

Jonathan nodded, waiting until Joyce was back in her room, with the door firmly shut, to pick up the phone.

"Nancy!" he said in a shouted whisper, tapping his fingers nervously against the formica countertop. "Did they show up?"

Nancy sighed in frustration. "No, and I'm guessing they aren't at your place either. Those _idiots_!" She sounded about ready to throw her phone across the room. "Any ideas where they might be?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No. Will has never done anything like this before. I can't understand why they would just run off."

Nancy was quiet for a moment. "I almost wonder… remember how I was telling you that my brother was having girl problems?"

"I guess," Jonathan said. He moved the phone to his left hand, rubbing his neck with his right.

"Mike was acting weird on the drive over to your house last night. I asked him why and he mentioned a girl, so I teased him about it and he totally clammed up." Nancy chewed her lip. "I wish I had gotten more details."

"It's hard to imagine they'd all go missing over some crush of Mike's," Jonathan said.

Nancy let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you'd think they'd leave him on his own for that one. Anyway, it's just a theory."

Jonathan wrapped a piece of the phone cord around his finger, staring down at it thoughtfully. "I wonder… well, I don't know. It's silly."

"What?" Nancy encouraged. "Any idea is better than nothing, Jonathan."

"Well… you know, I was telling you that my brother was asking about that lab outside town… the one that belongs to the Department of Energy?"

"Yeah?" Nancy said. "Wait… you think they ran away to go meet some scientists?"

Jonathan sighed. "I don't know… I just wonder why Will was so curious about it all of a sudden."

Nancy was quiet for a moment, and Jonathan began to second-guess himself. He was about to suggest they forget the whole idea when she interjected.

"I'll meet you on the corner of Randolph and Spruce in twenty minutes. Might as well take a look around."

"Uh… sure," Jonathan said. "See you then."

* * *

Less than a mile away, a cold-eyed woman wearing a headset and old-fashioned reading glasses scribbled on a notepad in the middle of a smoky, noisy room.

 _"8:15 AM,"_ she wrote. _"N Wheeler to J Byers. Will, Mike, and poss. others missing. NW thinks connected to unknown girl. JB thinks may be at HNL. NW and JB plan to search._

 _Note: NW and JB have likely not informed parents/authorities."_

The woman stood up, subtly stretching her already sore shoulders before bringing her notepad over to a supervisor stationed at a desk in a corner of the room.

"Sir, I think I might have picked up something relevant," she said.

He grunted, folding down his newspaper and studying her disdainfully. "Relevant to what, Miss Jorries?"

She set the pad of paper down on his desk and pointed at the latest entry. "Relevant," she said, "to the security breach."

* * *

Within a half-hour, Dr. Brenner was informed of the phone call they had intercepted, and he drew his own conclusions as to who the girl in question might be. He checked in on Eleven, but other than displaying signs of lethargy and a slight depression, she gave no indication that she was aware of the boys' presence in the building. He gave the staff strict instructions to keep her occupied and distracted until the afternoon's operation, which he now wished more than ever he could put off. Unfortunately, headquarters had just got wind of the possible location of a Russian spymaster's only son. Kidnapping him for blackmail material would be a feather in any number of agencies' caps, and so his boss would not allow for any delay in sending Eleven back into the sensory deprivation tank.

At Dr. Brenner's order, Mike was forcibly taken from the prison he shared with the other boys and brought to a small windowless room furnished with a table and two chairs. One guard handcuffed him to the chair while the other pressed a button on what looked like an intercom mounted on the wall. In a moment, they were both gone, with the door locked behind them.

Mike sat there with his heart pounding, fear settling thick in his lungs. He wondered just how far these people would go to protect their secrets.

After what seemed like hours, he heard the door open behind him, and a man walked in, sitting down in the chair on the other side of the table. He had white hair and was dressed like a businessman. His face would have seemed almost friendly, if it wasn't for a certain flat malevolence residing in his eyes. The man smiled at Mike.

"Michael. I want to congratulate you. No ordinary young man would be capable of getting in here the way you did."

Mike tried to keep his face blank. The man's compliment was evidently supposed to disarm him, but instead it left a sour taste in his mouth.

The man continued as if he was unbothered by Mike's silence. "In fact, I suspect there are many, many things about you that are not ordinary."

Mike said nothing, and the man studied him carefully before letting out a well-manicured chuckle. "I suppose I ought to introduce myself. My name is Martin Brenner. I believe you know my daughter?"

Mike stared at Dr. Brenner, comprehension dawning on his face - quickly followed by absolute, unadulterated loathing.

" _You!_ " he spat out. "You're Eleven's dad? You're the one she calls Papa, who keeps her locked up like an animal?"

Brenner's eyes lit up slightly. "You _do_ know her!" He leaned in closer. "How exactly do you communicate, and how long has it been going on?"

Mike glared at Brenner, disgusted. "I don't have to tell you anything, you freak! Let her go!"

"I'm afraid that's just not possible, Michael," Brenner said, feigning sorrow. "The outside world is far too dangerous for a girl like Eleven… and she, herself, is far too dangerous to be let out."

"Bullshit!" said Mike. He shook with anger, making his handcuffs clank noisily.

Dr. Brenner sighed. "Let me show you something." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a glossy black-and-white photograph, sliding it over to Mike across the table.

Mike glanced down, trying to refocus his eyes so he could understand what he was looking at. The photo was of a tiled wall with a large dent in it. Some sort of dark substance spotted pieces of the surface.

The doctor handed him a second picture. It showed same wall, but a side view, so the depth of the indentation, as well as the floor, could be seen. There was a shape huddled on the floor, covered in the same dark liquid that sprayed the walls. It took Mike a few seconds to realize this was a photo of a corpse.

Another photo, from another angle. Two bodies in the frame now, their eyes open, blank. Mike felt nauseous, quickly looking away and taking shallow breaths through his nose.

"These men had children, wives, loved ones," Dr. Brenner said. "They were strong, capable, honorable men. My… _beloved_ daughter… killed them both in a single instant."

"It's not true," Mike muttered. "She's not… she's not a killer."

Brenner's lips twisted in amusement. "How would you know, my dear boy? Because you talked to her in your dreams? Do you really think that a dream can be trusted?"

Mike didn't have an answer. He tried to dislodge the seed of doubt Dr. Brenner had planted in his mind, but he couldn't keep visions of those dead guards from flashing in front of his eyes.

Brenner clearly recognized that his demonstration had had the desired effect. He stood up, closing his briefcase. "One piece of advice, Michael. Don't allow yourself to be manipulated by my daughter. You seem like an extremely intelligent and…" he searched for the right word, " _passionate_ young man, with a bright future ahead of you." Brenner smiled, his kindly tone betrayed by the malice in his eyes. "I'd certainly hate to see that future cut short."

With that, he pressed the buzzer on the side of the wall and exited the room, leaving Mike alone with nothing but those brutal photographs for company.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N:So it's been like a year since I last wrote anything for this story, and I don't know if anyone cares any more, but I thought I'd at least try to get this finished before the new season comes out. When I started looking back at my notes I realized that I had more written than I had remembered. So here goes. I might drop some subplots somewhat but I'll try to stay true to my original vision for the story. Hope you like it.

* * *

Mike wasn't sure how many hours had passed in that room. His stomach growled a few times but he ignored it, too caught up in worries - for himself, for his friends, for Eleven. He realized now what a bone-headed move this plan had been. They were just stupid kids, not at all prepared to take on a shadowy government conspiracy. He should have realized how dangerous it was - but he hadn't. All he'd thought about was Eleven. He wondered if she was alright, if she knew what he'd done. Dr. Brenner made her sound like some kind of monster, but when Mike thought about the way she smiled at him in his dreams, he knew instantly that there was no way he could ever be afraid of her - this girl who used her incomprehensibly powerful psychic abilities just so she could reach out to him and hold his hand.

Finally the door slammed open and a guard came into the room, quickly unlocking Mike's handcuffs from the chair.

"Are you letting me go?" Mike asked, leaping from his seat.

"Not so fast, buddy," said the guard, grabbing him by the shoulder.

Roughly, he led Mike through a few narrow hallways, back to the cell where the other boys were being kept. When he arrived, the security chief was in the process of freeing Dustin, Lucas, and Will from their cuffs.

"What's going on?" Mike asked, eyeing the scene suspiciously.

The security chief answered him. "Your friends here have made a very wise decision. They have chosen to forget that this building ever existed, to walk out the front door and never look back. My hope is that you would make the same decision."

Mike stared at his friends, furious. "Seriously? Traitors!"

Lucas looked at him pleadingly. "Mike, come on man. What other choice do we have? I do _not_ want to die here. My mom would kill me!"

"That actually doesn't make any sense because -" Dustin interjected.

Lucas shot him a withering glare. "Shut. Up." He turned back to Mike. "It's our only option. Please, just… let it go."

"It's up to you, son," the guard said. "Agree, and we'll take you all back home right now. If not, we'll keep you all here until the bosses find a nice, quiet military prison to send you to for good."

Mike watched his friends' expressions and he decided he didn't have a choice. He would have to rescue El another way. Right now, they just needed to get out of there. He looked at the man and nodded. "Alright. It's a deal."

The chief of security gestured to his assistant, who unlocked the door separating Mike from his friends. Lucas, Dustin, and Will rushed out of the cell, surrounding Mike. He was expecting them to look relieved, but they still seemed tense.

The guard led them out into the hallway, with another following behind. Mike stared straight ahead but tried to gather all the information he could from his peripheral vision. The whole building seemed like a maze - he couldn't make sense of it. He glanced over at Will, who was watching him intently.

"What is it?" Mike whispered, as quietly as he could manage.

Will glanced back, afraid of being overheard. "Wait for the signal," he said, under his breath.

Mike frowned. "What sig…"

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow! Leg cramp, leg cramp!"

Behind them, Dustin had collapsed to the floor, whimpering and screaming while cradling his left leg. "Owwww, my leg! It hurts!"

The guards seemed taken aback - the one closest to Dustin leaned down, as if to help him. With a yell, Dustin kicked him in the shin, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground. Meanwhile, Lucas and Will both tackled the other guard. They were smaller than he was, definitely, but they had the element of surprise and they were surprisingly ferocious in their attack.

Mike only had a moment to react before Dustin yelled, "Run! Run, you idiot!" and Mike realized what he was meant to do - his part in the secret plan that he hadn't known they were making.

Mike took off down the hallway, but he didn't get very far. Another guard rounded the corner - maybe he'd heard the commotion - and even though Mike tried to dodge him, this guy was faster than the other two had been. Mike felt a hand wrench his shoulder back before he was pushed to the ground face first. He struggled to get to his feet, twisting around only to find a boot stomping down on his hand and a taser being held against his windpipe.

* * *

Eleven was once again dressed in her wetsuit, shivering as she was led up to the entrance to the bath. Her papa had threatened her with the harshest punishment imaginable if she allowed herself to become distracted from her task in any way. She was so tired - the drugs they had given her were still having an effect - and all she wanted to do was to give them what they asked for so she could rest. As she sank down into the water and the darkness surrounded her, she let her instinct take over, as the form of the man in the picture appeared in front of her. She didn't understand what he was saying, but she didn't need to - she knew that she had done what her Papa had asked, that she had found the bad man.

"Please! Please stop! It hurts! El! El, help us!"

Mike's voice. Mike's voice, in pain. Calling out for her.

The image of the spy fractured, vanished. Eleven saw with perfect clarity what was happening just a few floors away. Mike on the ground, Mike in pain, Mike here - here to rescue her.

Someone hurting Mike.

"NO!"

Eleven sent the guard flying against the opposite wall, his spine snapping apart with a sickening crack.

The other guard screamed and reached for the emergency call box, trying to get some backup. Eleven felt her will take physical shape, coursing through the wiring of the lab room and flooding into every electric cord, every computer, every video monitor in the building. She saw everything that was happening, as if the entire structure had become an extension of her brain.

And then she tore it to pieces.

Every lightbulb in the building burst, sending shards of glass and sparks of light exploding into the air. The alarms all sounded at once, and the sprinklers turned on while the darkness was pierced by the glow of red emergency lights. The cages of the test animals all flew open, and the scientists who had been studying them were suddenly beset by angry cats, bellowing pigs, hordes of mice, and even a few howling monkeys.

Eleven slammed open the visual shield around her tank, watching as the scientists stared at her, terrified.

"Cut it off!" shouted one of the men, and another quickly began to flip some switches on a dashboard.

"No - no, don't!" Dr. Brenner exclaimed, rushing to try to overpower him. Obviously he was outnumbered here, and he was thrown to the ground by one of his colleagues.

Eleven's breathing became labored and she realized that they were trying to cut off her oxygen supply. She shut her eyes tight and let out a scream that burst the tank open.

Glass was everywhere, and many of the scientists cried out in pain as they were scattered in shrapnel. The force of the explosion had knocked them over and they cowered in front of her, lab coats dripping with salt water.

She freed herself from the diving helmet and stepped down lightly onto the platform below, ignoring the way the broken glass dug into her bare soles.

She closed her eyes for a moment to orient herself. The boys were on the third floor in the north wing. They had evidently taken advantage of the power outage and were running through the hallways, looking for a way out. But they were going the wrong way - east, away from her and towards the deepest part of the building, where a spark from a short circuiting computer system had landed on a pile of experimental data and burst into a small but rapidly-growing fire.

She watched the fire for a moment, fascinated by the way it made the paper shrivel up and disappear, the way the men all screamed and cowered from it.

Then she reached out for Mike again.

" _Stop."_

Her voice echoed through the halls and reached Mike and his friends. They halted in their tracks looking around in fright. "What's going on?" Lucas said. "We've gotta get out of here, come on." He tugged at Mike, but Mike shook his head.

"No," Mike said. "She's coming."


	14. Chapter 14

Eleven was almost to the exit doors when she felt someone lunge for her, trying to knock her down. She pushed back with a yelp of surprise, pinning her attacker against the wall. She realized a second later that it was her Papa.

"Eleven," Dr. Brenner pleaded. "Eleven, stop this, now."

El merely shook her head, speechless with rage and slammed the door behind her, activating the lock.

Eleven arrived in Michael Wheeler's physical reality trailed by fire and destruction and several different species of mice. Her eyes were bloodshot and red gore dripped from her nose and ears, so that Dustin, Lucas, and Will hung back with a kind of visceral fear that they would afterwards wholeheartedly deny experiencing. Mike reacted differently. He ran to her and pulled her into a hug that could have lasted for a year.

" _She's real, and she's here, and she's safe. She's safe, and she's here, and she's real."_

Dustin was the first one with the courage to speak. "You… you're El?" he asked, hesitantly.

El looked at him from over Mike's shoulder and nodded.

Lucas looked like he had seen a ghost. "This… this is crazy," he muttered to himself.

"We gotta get out of here," Will pointed out to the others. "They're gonna find us and when they do… it won't be good."

"This way…" El whispered, pointing. The boys looked at her in surprise, not expecting her to sound so weak.

They ran through the hallway and up into a stairwell, with Mike keeping a vice grip on El's hand. The elation of finally being next to him in real life made her run faster than she ever had before, even as her bare feet began to bleed and her chest ached from the smoke.

Smoke… this wasn't good. The fire had spread farther and faster than she had expected, helped along by some stockpiles of an unknown but highly flammable substance. Smoke was poring in from the stairwell's exit door, and Mike tugged on El's hand, pulling her down to a crouching position on the ground.

"If we breathe too much of that stuff, we'll die," he told her. "We have to stay low."

Dustin pushed against the door, grunting in frustration. "It's locked!"

They all turned to El and she stepped forward, letting go of Mike's hand. With a nod of her head the door swung open, revealing a hallway that was almost completely engulfed in flames.

"How the hell are we supposed to get through _that?"_ asked Lucas. He looked frightened.

Eleven held out her hand, her eyes ferocious. Suddenly a path appeared in front of them, as if someone had poured water or sprayed a fire extinguisher through the middle of the hall. She moved forward and the boys followed nervously. Looking backward, they could see the flames moving back into place behind them, as if they'd never even gone away. As the flames grew higher, the boys dropped to their knees, trying to stay under the smoke line. But Eleven just kept walking, utterly determined. She knew a thing or two about endurance, about forcing down the part of her that felt weakness or pain. They were so close to freedom, and even though she wasn't quite sure what that was going to look like, she knew in her heart that it was going to be worth everything.

Finally - finally - they reached an exit, the doors swinging open in front of them, and they ran, gulping in the cool evening air and trying to get as much distance as they could from the fiery wreck of a building they were leaving behind. All Eleven could see was blue, and light, and it should have been beautiful but her eyes stung so much - and her chest hurt - and she couldn't breathe…

Mike reached her just before she collapsed to the ground. "El! El, wake up!" He looked around at his friends wildly. "What's wrong with her?"

"Probably breathed in too much smoke," Lucas said. He looked back at the laboratory complex. It was still too close. "Mike, we can't stay here."

Mike turned to Dustin. "Help me carry her!" he screamed, sounding utterly panicked. Dustin nodded and pulled the girl up into his arms. He cursed under his breath and let out an "oof" as he lifted her into a fireman's carry.

A bit slower now, going at Dustin's pace, they made their way through the woods towards the gap in the security fence. Mike cautiously scanned the terrain for anything that might make Dustin trip and fall. They heard helicopters overhead and ducked underneath a huge oak tree, paranoid about being spotted.

"Where are we going?" Lucas asked after they passed through the outer gate. Mike considered this.

"We can't go home yet," he said. "They might be looking for her."

Will spoke up. "Let's take her to Castle Byers," he suggested quietly. "We can wait there until things settle down."

Mike nodded, smiling gratefully. He reached over and squeezed El's hand. "Just hold on El. It's gonna be ok."

"This girl -" Dustin wheezed - "this girl better be really freaking nice to me." He attempted to shift her weight a little, huffing and puffing.

Mike glared at him. "She rescued us from a burning building so I think you're even."

Dustin considered launching a counterargument but his hand was starting to cramp and he couldn't quite muster up the energy. Besides, the whole meeting-a-girl-with-psychic-powers thing _was_ pretty awesome. He started speculating on what else she could do… like beating up Troy for instance…

They reached Will's wooden fort just after sunset, and Dustin laid El down inside while Mike covered her in one of Will's blankets. Will, Lucas, and Dustin immediately tore into Will's stash of junk food, barely pausing between bites.

Mike stayed by El's side, refusing to move or take his eyes off her. The moment her eyes finally fluttered open, he felt a kind of relief that was almost painful. "El! El, are you feeling alright?"

She looked up at him, blinking. "Mike?" Her forehead crinkled in a way that he found unbelievably adorable. "Dream?"

He laughed and was almost surprised at the sound. "No, it's not a dream, El, I swear. You're safe now. We got you out of that place - well really, you got yourself out, but you know, we came too, and…"

"What happened?" she asked.

"You blacked out," he told her. "You breathed in too much smoke and it made you sick."

She nodded and winced. "Head hurts."

Mike grabbed a water bottle off the ground and handed it to her. "Drink some water - it'll help, I think." He looked at her worriedly. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, cautiously sipping from the bottle, but he was already rummaging through their pile of snacks. He found an unopened bag of Reese's Pieces and tore it open. Shyly, he reached for her hand and poured the candy into her palm.

She looked up at him quizzically, then back down at the candy in her hand. "It's good," he told her, reassuring.

Eleven took a cautious bite and then smiled, her eyes wide. "Good," she repeated, grinning at him. Mike wasn't sure he'd ever felt so pleased with himself.

One by one, the boys drifted off, and Mike yawned, suddenly aware of how utterly exhausted he was. It was getting so dark he could barely see El's face. Part of him just wanted to collapse, but he couldn't let himself fall asleep if there was even the slightest chance El would need him.

"El," he whispered, waking her from a light doze. "Are you… are you cold?" He had noticed her shivering - there was no heat in Will's fort, and it was mid-November after all.

El stared at him. This wasn't a question she was used to being asked.

Mike tried to think of a solution. There was only one thing that occurred to him, and the thought instantly turned his ears bright pink. "I could… um, I mean, if you want… I could… I could… I could help… warm you up?" His voice creaked and he cringed, but El seemed completely unaware of the boy's embarrassment.

"Okay," she said. Then she tilted her head. "How?"

Feeling like he was going to self-incinerate, Mike scooted in closer to her as he tried to explain. "We could… share blankets," he said, trying to keep quiet so his friends wouldn't overhear. Then he started to ramble nervously. "If you want to, I mean it's not a big deal, but it would probably help keep you warm, because of like body heat and stuff, at least that's what I read in a book once, I think, I don't quite remember…"

El smiled and interrupted his nervous babbling. "Share," she said, rolling over and throwing her blanket on top of him.

"Oh…okay…" Mike said. He cautiously moved closer to her until his head rested on her pillow.

"You're warm," said El, closing her eyes and sighing. Mike chuckled. He certainly felt warm _now._


	15. Chapter 15

Chief Hopper didn't take the handcuffs off Jonathan and Nancy until they were back at police headquarters, sitting in his office with Joyce Byers and Ted and Karen Wheeler. Nancy supposed he was trying to prove a point.

"Okay, tell me again," Hopper said. "Your brothers ran off last night and instead of calling me or telling your parents, you tried to sneak into Hawkins Lab… because you think that's where they went?"

"Yeah, basically," Jonathan said. He kept his eyes on the ground, not wanting to see the disappointment and worry on his mom's face.

"It was my idea…" Nancy admitted. She didn't want Jonathan to face blame that he didn't deserve. "I thought we'd get in trouble if we told anybody. I figured we could just find them on our own."

Nancy's mother looked furious, but her dad seemed confused. "What could they possibly be doing in Hawkins Lab?" he asked.

Jonathan shrugged. "They were asking me about it - doing research. I think they got an idea into their heads that something bad was happening there. Something that they needed to stop."

Hopper shook his head. "The guards at the lab would have found them by now, and they would have filed a report with us right away. Those guys don't mess around."

"Yeah, but what if…" Nancy began, then hesitated. "I mean, what if Mike was right? What if they saw something they shouldn't have, and…" She bit her lip.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Joyce. "We've got to go up there right now and look for them!" She stood up, looking at the other parents expectantly.

Hopper sighed and stood up slowly, picking up the sheriff's hat that he had thrown onto his desk. "I'll go alone. They're not going to let a whole tour group in."

"But Hop…" Joyce began, frowning. Just then, Officer Callahan rapped on the office door, interrupting them.

"Hey Chief. There's something on TV that you might wanna take a look at."

Hopper rolled his eyes. "This isn't the time, Callahan. I've got to drive up to Hawkins Lab to look for some missing kids. Can you hold down the fort here?"

The deputy shook his head. "Chief, listen. There's no point. The whole complex is going up in smoke!"

Hopper frowned, sure he had misunderstood. "What are you talking about? Hawkins Lab…"

"Is currently a fireball," Callahan said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come and see."

The adults and teenagers filed out behind Hopper towards the small TV in the corner of the officers' lounge. Flo was already in there, her eyes glued to the screen, where a smoldering wreck of a building was visible through heavy clouds of smoke. Nancy heard Joyce fall to the floor, saw her parents clench their arms around each other in terror. She found herself reaching for Jonathan's hand, for some anchorage in the midst of what felt like a sudden whirlwind of dread. One minute they were standing there, and the next he was wrenching her away, pulling her through a doorway into the hall. The adults had been too transfixed to even see them leave.

"Jonathan, I… I'm sorry…" she began, choking back tears.

His eyes were like fire and he clutched at her shoulders.

"Nancy! Nancy, listen to me. They're not dead. They're not. They can't be. You _know_ they can't be."

Nancy shook her head, wiping at her eyes. "Jonathan…you, you said it yourself. They were doing research, trying to break in." She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "Where else could they be?"

"Those kids are _smart_ ," Jonathan said, his voice hoarse, desperate. "They're smarter than us, probably. They would have gotten out somehow. They would have, I just know it." He let go of her shoulders and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked back at her, determination in his eyes. "We've got to find them."

Nancy didn't know what to think. Every time she blinked, she could see that awful fire - she wasn't sure anybody could have escaped something like that. But she wanted so badly to believe that her brother was safe. And Jonathan seemed so sure.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go - before our parents stop us."

* * *

Mike woke up in the middle of the night, shivering under a fleece blanket that smelled like the woods. At first, he was completely disoriented, but when he sat up he remembered where he was, and realized with sudden, heart-pounding dread, that El was gone. Quickly, he stood up and slipped on his shoes, rushing past the sleeping bodies of his friends out into the night air. He looked around wildly, seeing no sign of her.

"El! Eleven! El!" he shouted, not caring if he woke up his friends. He followed a path through the woods, trying to hurry. It was hard to see in the dark and his foot suddenly wedged itself under a tree root, bringing him crashing to the ground. In an instant, Eleven was there.

"Mike!" she called out, sounding worried. He found himself lifted back up onto his feet by an invisible force and wasn't sure whether to feel amazed, relieved, or embarrassed.

"Um, thanks, El," he mumbled, glancing at her. Then he started in shock. She was wearing Dustin's jacket and was carrying one of Will's blankets, along with what looked like a bag filled with supplies.

"El… um… what are you doing?" he asked, suddenly anxious. "You're not… leaving, are you?"

She nodded sadly, already beginning to turn away from him.

His heart sank into his shoes. "Wait! Please, wait," he begged.

Eleven shook her head and pointed at Mike. "Not safe."

Mike felt tears gathering in his eyes. Was she really so afraid of him?

"You… you think I would hurt you? Eleven, I… I would _never_ …" He fought the urge to move closer to her.

She looked at him sadly. "I… hurt you." Cautiously, she lifted her hand to touch the bruise on his cheek. Then she placed her palm against his neck, the place where the guard had tazed him. Mike was finding it difficult to breathe in any sort of regular pattern.

"No, _they_ hurt me!" he insisted, motioning his head back towards the facility. "You _protected_ me, El. I want to… I want to protect you, too." The last part was a whisper, and he felt his face turn pink.

"Don't leave," he whispered. Eyes wide, she nodded.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He led her back towards Castle Byers, their hands lightly interlocked, while he told her all his plans. They'd go back home tomorrow, or maybe the next day, and she could live in his house, in his basement, maybe, and his mom would take good care of her.

She stopped suddenly and he almost crashed into her in the dark.

"What is it?" he asked, anxious. Had she heard something? Seen something?

She said nothing, and he followed her gaze up to the sky, where a bright full moon glowed among the bare treetops.

He glanced back at her, and his heart melted at the wonder in her eyes.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" he said, quietly.

She nodded. "Pretty."

El reached out her fingers as if to touch the source of the light, but her hand came away empty.

Mike smiled. "I know, it looks like it's right there, but it's actually millions of miles away."

"Tell me," El murmured.

"About… the moon?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well, it's a satellite. It revolves around our planet, like…"

He grabbed her wrist and she stared at him. He loosened his grip. "Sorry."

She placed her hand in his and shook her head. "Show me."

Cautiously he wrapped his hand around hers, balling it into a fist. "So let's say your hand is the earth," he began, and brought his fist up next to hers. He moved his fist around hers in a circular motion. "Here's the moon. It's a lot smaller than the earth, so it gets pulled in and spins around it. The surface of the moon is actually reflecting the light from the sun, that's why it looks so bright."

El was utterly fascinated, her gaze locked upon his face. Mike swallowed a lump in his throat. They were close - really, really close. The moonlight was making her eyes sparkle and he couldn't look away. Then he did the scariest and most impulsive thing he'd ever done in his life, even scarier and more impulsive than breaking into a secret government lab and trying to rescue a girl he'd never actually met.

He kissed her. Only for a few seconds, but it was sweet and soft and much, much nicer than he ever could have imagined kissing could be. El looked at Mike in wonder and he blushed, feeling thrilled and silly and vulnerable all at once.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head.

His stomach dropped off a cliff and he stepped away from her. _She doesn't understand. She doesn't know what it means._ "Sorry, El," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have… uh, shouldn't have done that."

Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip. "Sorry… why?" she asked. "Shouldn't have… why?"

Mike sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I shouldn't have kissed you, without explaining it. I thought you knew. It was stupid." He kicked at the ground.

"Explain," she told him.

"Uh, well… it's called kissing and people do it… sometimes, because… well… because they like someone, a lot. I don't know, I just… like… think you're really pretty and nice and maybe we can go to the snowball together or something, I don't know, whatever."

"I'm pretty?" she asked with a joyous expression. He nodded quickly, his face bright scarlet.

El smiled and touched his cheek. "Pretty, too."

Mike grinned, his heart pounding in his ears. "Uh, thanks."

Suddenly, El whipped her head around, following the sound of feet stepping onto crunching leaves. A pair of flashlight beams floated towards them through the dark. Mike grabbed El's hand and pulled her back towards Castle Byers. "Hurry," he whispered. "We have to hide."

They ran back into the fortress, waking Lucas, Dustin and Will. "What the hell?" Dustin complained loudly, rubbing his eyes. "We're sleeping here."

Mike shushed him. "Somebody's outside with flashlights. We've got to keep quiet or they'll find us." He picked up a heavy hard-bound comic anthology and handed it to Lucas. "In case you need to whack somebody," he explained. Lucas nodded, going into a defensive crouch near the entryway.

Footsteps echoed through the woods, seeming closer every second. Mike stood in front of Eleven and she clutched his arm, looking frightened.

A flashlight beam swept through the entryway.

"Michael William Wheeler, you… little… ASSHOLE!" yelled Nancy, barreling toward her little brother. She was so relieved that all she could do was be furious. But she didn't get a chance to hug him _or_ attack him, because after a few more steps she suddenly ran into what felt like an impenetrable force field. "What the hell…"

She watched as Mike turned to the figure beside him, someone she didn't recognize. "It's okay, El," he said. "She's my sister."


	16. Chapter 16

_"It's okay, El. She's my sister."_

"Sister?" El repeated, looking back and forth between Mike and the intruder. The girl was even taller than Mike, and very pretty, with long, thick hair that made El want to die with jealousy - not that she would have even been able to define that word. She cautiously let go of the air around Mike, allowing the older girl to once again move forward.

Nancy hugged her brother so hard the wind was nearly knocked out of his chest. "We're all convinced you've _died_ in a _fucking fire_ but you're just out here playing house with your friends? What the hell were you thinking? Everybody's terrified."

Mike tried to push Nancy away, embarrassed at being treated like a baby in front of his friends and El. "I'm fine, Nancy, stop it."

El stepped closer to them, glaring at the older girl. "Don't… hurt… him."

Nancy raised her eyebrows and studied El from head to toe. "Seriously, who are you?"

Mike extricated himself from his sister's grip. "This is Eleven. El for short. We, uh, well, sort of rescued her?"

"You rescued her," Nancy repeated. "From what, exactly?"

Mike rolled his eyes. "From the lab."

"Okay… and you're out here because…"

"Because they're still looking for her and we're trying to hide!" shouted Mike, getting frustrated. "If they find her, they'll take her away again."

"Is that true?" Nancy asked Eleven. The girl looked a little frightened, but she nodded, her mouth set in a hard line.

"What would a lab want with a twelve-year-old?" Jonathan said, looking at his brother Will, then back at Mike and Eleven.

"Good question," agreed Nancy.

"It's… hard to explain," Mike said. He didn't want to give away El's secret without her permission - not unless it was absolutely necessary. But Nancy didn't seem willing to back down.

"No, it's not!" said Dustin. Mike glared at him but the other boy continued. "They want her because she has superpowers. She burned the whole building down with her mind. Plus, she used dreams to communicate with Mike and she killed two security guards that were attacking us."

"Dustin!" shouted Mike, outraged. "Shut! Up!"

Eyes wide, Nancy grabbed Mike by the wrist. "Okay Mike. We need to talk."

* * *

Once they were outside the tent, Nancy turned to glare at her little brother, her arms crossed.

"What kind of stunt are you and your friends trying to pull?"

"It's not a stunt. It's real. We're all in danger."

"So you're telling me this girl… she's some kind of psychic? or a witch?"

"She is _not_ a witch, okay? She's just… special." Mike blushed.

Nancy's eyes widened in understanding. "When I walked in, I had this feeling… like… like I couldn't move. And then you said something to her, and suddenly…" She shivered. "You're saying, she did that to me?"

"Yeah, exactly. But she didn't mean to mess with you, she was just, like, being protective."

"Protective…of you," Nancy stated, a slight smirk appearing on her face. She was beginning to put the pieces together.

"Yeah, I guess," Mike said, turning pink.

Nancy's expression turned serious again. "Dustin said she killed someone?"

Mike stared at her, trying to explain. "Well, yeah, technically, but she didn't mean to! I mean, they were hurting us, and they were bad guys, really, really, bad guys! We'd probably be dead if it wasn't for her." He frowned. "She's a good person. She _is_ , Nancy. We have to help her."

Nancy took a deep breath, then let it out in a long sigh. Part of her wanted to ignore everything her brother was telling her, to ignore the strange _something_ that had happened just now, when she felt like she couldn't move, and to decide that none of this was real. A world with psychic twelve-year-olds and nefarious government conspiracies wasn't really the world she wanted to live in. But Mike looked so sincere, and so frightened, that her big-sister instincts just kicked in.

"Alright, okay, we'll try and help her. But you guys can't stay out here all night. And we've gotta get word to Mom and Dad that you're okay."

"But…"

Just then, the air went haywire with the sound of approaching helicopters. Searchlights scanned through the trees in the distance, moving closer at high speed.

"Shit!" Mike grabbed Nancy's arm and they ran towards the tent.

Mike hurried over to El's side, squeezing her hand comfortingly. Meanwhile, Nancy nearly toppled Jonathan over - thanks to the combination of her forward momentum and the small, cramped space - and he somehow ended up holding on to her waist. They all froze, barely breathing, as the searchlight penetrated the canvas walls of Castle Byers and illuminated their terrified faces.

Jonathan finally let go of Nancy, mumbling "sorry," and shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Nancy shrugged, staring at the floor. She wasn't sure why her stomach felt so _fluttery_ all of a sudden.

"We've got to get out of here," Lucas said. "They'll probably send soldiers to sweep the woods. They know we're hiding."

"Where do we go?" asked Dustin. The normally happy-go-lucky kid looked genuinely frightened.

Jonathan spoke up. "Let's go to our house. That's the only thing that makes sense."

"What are we gonna say to Mom?" asked Will.

Jonathan put his hand on his little brother's shoulder. "We'll tell her the truth."

After a mad dash through the woods, many scraped knees, and various creative curses, the party finally arrived at Will and Jonathan's house. Joyce leapt from the couch, her face splotchy and red, tears streaming from her eyes. "Will! Jonathan! Oh, thank god." She rushed to her boys, wrapping them in a fierce group hug. "Where have you been? I've been so worried. I've been going crazy, waiting for Hopper to call… he went to check on the fire. I thought… I thought…" she sobbed, hugging them tighter.

"Mom, it's okay," Jonathan said, patting her back comfortingly. "Nancy and me, we went to find Will and his friends. We wanted to bring them home." He looked right at her, his expression serious. "They're in trouble, mom."

Joyce frowned, wiping the tears off her face and heaving in a deep breath to steady herself. "What kind of trouble?"

She looked over at the boys, watching their worried expressions, before noticing someone she didn't recognize, standing beside Mike Wheeler - a girl with a shaved head, dressed in some kind of strange futuristic-looking wetsuit. She looked about Will's age, but she was staring at Joyce with the kind of unbridled curiosity more often associated with infants than with teenage girls.

"Who is this?" asked Joyce, her voice warm but perplexed.

"This is El, mom," said Will, softly. "This is the girl we rescued."

* * *

Chief Hopper swore in frustration, glaring at the heavily armed guards that were blocking him from even getting _close_ to the wreckage that once was Hawkins Lab.

"For the last time. This is a crime scene, and I am the chief of police, and this is MY GODDAMN TOWN. You will let me through to investigate or so help me God, I will have every single one of you brought up on charges of obstruction of justice. Is that what you want?"

The guard grimaced. "Sir, we work for the federal government. This is Department of Energy property. All due respect, but it's completely out of your jurisdiction."

"Like hell it is…" Hopper muttered, grinding his teeth. He turned, hearing a car tear up the driveway towards the guard station. It was a black sedan with tinted windows. A man in a well-pressed suit got out, and Hopper looked him over, eyebrows raised. He knew a Fed when he saw one.

"Chief James Hopper," the man said. He was smiling but he didn't look friendly - not for a second. "Why don't you come with me."

Hopper frowned, fighting the urge to slump his shoulders and avoid the man's stare. He didn't scare easy, but guys like that gave him the creeps. "Yeah, okay." He followed the man into the black car, gripping his hat tightly in his hands as he slid into the backseat.

"What can I do for you, Mr…."

"Wallace. Special Agent Wallace," the man said.

"Ah. Special Agent," Hopper repeated, reaching into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. "Of what agency, exactly?"

"Chief Hopper, I'm glad you came out here. It's times like this we need a man like you."

Hopper didn't know what to say. _Times like what? And who is 'we'?_

Agent Wallace continued. "This tragedy… this _catastrophe_ … may not have been an accident."

"Hmm," said Hopper, slowly inhaling and exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

"It's a very delicate situation. The work of this lab is - was - of extreme interest, national-security-wise. We may have just fallen behind the Russians by five, ten, twenty years in just one night."

Hopper waited for the agent to get to the point. Wallace watched him warily.

"The truth is - and this is highly classified information, mind you - this very well may have been an act of war."

The agent handed him a photograph and he peered down at it, confused. Some kid - a girl, maybe - with a shaved head and dark, tired eyes stared back at him from the image.

"Our enemies are smart, Chief Hopper. They can use human beings - children, even - as weapons. They send a girl to a little town, a girl trained from birth in deception and sabotage. She slips through the cracks, gaining people's trust, until one day, she strikes. Then, she disappears. But as you well know, Chief Hopper, _no one_ can truly disappear." The agent smirked at him and Hopper felt his fingers twitch.

"So why are you telling me this?" Hopper growled.

Wallace clapped Hopper on the back, ignoring how the Chief glared at him. "She's hiding somewhere, nearby. I think you're the man to find her."


	17. Chapter 17

Happy New Year! Sorry for the delay. I guess I got caught up with writing new stuff about the new season... and then it was the end of the semester... and then I went to Paris... lol it really has been a while. I'm sorry.

Hope you like it! Thanks for reading.

* * *

Just about everything El saw in the Byers house made her burn with curiosity. The wallpaper, for example - who ever heard of a wall with little flowers painted on it? El had never seen anything like it. She traced her fingers over the shapes, eyes wide, while Mike and Will and Dustin and Lucas talked over each other in an effort to give Will's mom the full story of El's imprisonment and their impromptu rescue mission.

Every once in a while, El glanced at Mrs. Byers, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to figure out what to expect. There was something about the older woman that made El want to trust her, but she knew how quickly, how easily, it could all fall apart.

El felt like she hadn't even known how much she had wanted to escape until she finally did it. Now she knew there was no way she was going back. She had friends now. She had Mike. The way it felt when he hugged her, when he told her about the moon, when - when he kissed her… how could she possibly live in a cage again after all of that? She knew with an absolute certainty that she would do anything to stay with him. She would stop at nothing, burn down every building they tried to lock her away in, even if she had to burn herself too.

But maybe… maybe… (she allowed herself to hope) maybe they would stop looking for her. Maybe now that her Papa was… gone…

She flinched. That wasn't something she was ready to process.

"El… Eleven?" Joyce said cautiously.

El looked up at her from the corner of the room where she had been studying the wallpaper. "Yes?"

"Um, do you maybe want some clean clothes? The suit you're wearing, it doesn't look… very comfortable."

Eleven's eyes widened. "Clothes?"

Joyce grinned at the girl's awestruck expression. "Yeah. Yeah, come on." She beckoned El forward into her bedroom.

She didn't know how to describe the lavender scent that hung in the room, but she knew she liked it. It felt - comfortable, like warm blankets and someone reading to you aloud. It made it easier to smile hesitantly back at Joyce as she opened up her closet and started digging around inside.

"You're a tiny little thing, aren't you?" said Joyce, almost to herself. El shrugged, shrinking her shoulders down.

Joyce caught her worried expression and smiled compassionately. "It's okay. Jonathan was small for his age too, and look at him now! He's a giant."

El nodded, a little confused. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be as tall as Jonathan, who could barely fit inside Castle Byers. But she supposed it didn't really matter.

"Well, we'll find something for you. I've got a bad habit of never throwing away old clothes." Absentmindedly she gestured to El to come closer. "Take a look, see if there's anything you like."

El stepped forward hesitantly, fighting the urge to gasp. She had no idea that one person could have this many items of clothing. Shirts and pants and shoes and… and dresses!

"Ooh, how about this one?" Joyce said, pulling out a dress with an alacrity that made El flinch in surprise. "Too short on me nowadays, but I bet you'd look nice in it."

It was a simple sleeveless housedress, brown with green and yellow abstract flowers all over it - left over from Joyce's hippie earth-mother period, it wasn't exactly something a typical teenager would gush over in 1983. But El nodded furiously, her eyes lit up with happiness as she stroked the soft cotton fabric with her fingers.

The dress hung off El's body like a sack, the hem reaching the top of her knees, and the dark color made her look even more unnaturally pale than before. When she re-entered the living room, she smiled shyly at Mike as he stared at her, his face turning red.

"Here, El," he managed to say. "Come and eat."

El stepped forward into the kitchen and marveled at the shiny formica tabletop. She'd never seen a glittery table before and she brought her face close to examine the specks of color in the material.

"You can sit down, if you want," Mike murmured. She sat, wondering what food would look like in this strange, beautiful place.

With a startling clang, Jonathan set a plate down in front of her. It was piled high with steaming yellow mush and pieces of delicious smelling brown squiggles. She looked at Mike questioningly.

"It's bacon and eggs," he said, reassuring. "You'll like it."

"Breakfast feast?" she said with a hesitant grin.

He smiled widely in return and nodded. "Breakfast feast." It felt so good to have her here, to see her warm and clothed and fed and taken care of. It felt like everything he'd ever wanted. "Try the eggs on their own first, and then I'll show you how they're really supposed to be eaten."

"Oh no you don't," Dustin interrupted. "You are not corrupting her with your insane syrup-and-scrambled-eggs bullshit."

"It's not insane, Dustin! Just because you're too much of a baby to try something new…"

"I try new things! I tried minestrone soup last week!"

Mike rolled his eyes, his tone sarcastic. "Oh wow, a new soup. You're an inspiration to us all."

Dustin glowered. "Hey, you don't need to be a dick."

"Yeah, Mike," said Lucas. "Besides, Dustin's right. Nobody in the world puts syrup on their eggs except you."

"Just let her try it!" Mike said, his voice cracking in his excitement. "Maybe she'll like it. You don't know."

"Should she try frozen peas in her apple juice too? Maybe she'll like that!" said Dustin, throwing up his hands.

El's eyes narrowed in disgust. "No peas."

The boys looked at El in surprise as if they'd almost forgotten she was there.

"No. Peas." she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. Will would have sworn he saw the lights in the house flicker.

Mike chuckled nervously. "Okay, okay, no peas. Dustin was just kidding. Right, Dustin?"

"Yes. Yes, definitely," Dustin said, nodding so fast his hat almost came off. "I'm just trying to protect you, El! Just because Mike is your soulmate or whatever doesn't mean you have to put syrup on your eggs like a crazy person…"

Mike punched Dustin in the shoulder, hard. "Shut. Up." he growled.

El's eyes crinkled in confusion, looking between Mike and Dustin. "What is… soulmate?"

"Nothing. Nothing. Dustin was just kidding, again," Mike said. His face was practically on fire. "Here, El," he said, picking up the syrup and pouring it onto the corner of her plate. "Try a little bit."

She smiled at him and picked up her fork, cautiously grabbing a large chunk of fluffy eggs and dipping it into the sticky puddle of syrup. She took a bite, frowning in concentration while Mike stared at her hopefully.

Then she gagged and spit her bite back onto the plate. "Eugh!"

The group exploded with laughter while Mike put his head into his hands.

"Oh, god, that was priceless," Dustin said, clutching his sides.

"Sorry, Mike," El said earnestly, wiping at her mouth with her sleeve.

"It's fine," he said, morosely, making his friend crack up all over again.

Meanwhile, Joyce picked up the phone and dialed the number for the police station.

"Hopper? It's Joyce. The kids are back."

"What? All of them? Are they okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. They spent the night in the woods, but they're fine."

She heard him sigh with relief, then move the phone to his other ear. "Look Joyce, I don't know the whole story, but it sounds like that lab was dealing with some top-secret stuff. If the kids are wrapped up in it…"

She bit at her nails and nodded into the phone. "They are."

"Shit. Okay." Hopper took a breath, thinking. "We shouldn't talk about it now."

"Why not?"

"Joyce, the guys on this case are no joke. They might have already bugged the line."

"You're not serious."

Hopper grimaced and sucked air through his teeth. "I'll be at your place in twenty minutes. Be ready."

"Ready for what?" Joyce said, her voice high and nervous.

"I don't know," he said. "Anything."

* * *

When Hopper walked in and saw the Russian spy sitting at Joyce's breakfast table next to Will and Mike and Dustin and Lucas, his first thought was to curse this woman's goddamn gullibility. His next thought was to get out his gun.

"You four. Step away from the girl."

Joyce's face went pale. "Hopper. Hopper! What the hell are you doing? Put that thing away. She's just a child, she…"

"She's not who you think she is," he said through gritted teeth.

Mike stood up and threw himself in front of El. "Don't hurt her!"

Hopper tried to sound calm, reasonable. Not an easy task when you're pointing your gun at a couple of twelve year olds. "Mike. Kid. You don't know what you're doing. She burned down Hawkins Lab. She's a Russian spy, and she's dangerous."

"No, you don't know what _you're_ doing! She's not dangerous, and she's not Russian! She's just a girl, a girl they imprisoned for their stupid science tests!"

Hopper stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the spy's face. "I know that might be what she told you, but it wasn't true." He reached out for Mike's shoulder, trying to push him away.

Suddenly Hopper was down on the floor, his gun falling out of his grip and spinning into the girl's hands. He tried to stand up again but it was like some invisible force was holding him in place.

"El, don't hurt him," Mike was saying softly. "He's not bad, he just doesn't understand. He can help us. We just have to explain it right."

El nodded, her features relaxing slightly. She held the gun out for Joyce, but her eyes never moved from Mike's face. Joyce grabbed the weapon and quickly disarmed it, her hands shaking.

Hopper finally managed to stand up, rubbing his back, bruised from the sudden, hard fall. "How did you do that?" he asked. No one in the room had ever heard him sound so frightened, so shocked. "What… what are you?"

"She's a girl, Hop," Joyce said quietly. "We've been telling you. She's just a girl."

* * *

Chief Hopper wasn't easily convinced, but he listened carefully, watching Joyce's fiercely persuasive eyes as she talked. He had to admit, the government's story hadn't exactly made much sense. He had seen enough of the world to recognize a cover-up when it was pointed out to him. And this girl - he understood why Joyce had wanted to protect her, why the boys had done what they did to get her out of that lab. She'd taken the gun right out of his hand, thrown him to the ground without touching him, like he weighed nothing at all - and then gone back to studying the surface of Joyce's kitchen table and slurping up scrambled eggs. She was a child, and he saw that now, and it made him feel guilty as hell for having threatened her, however understandable his motivations.

He refused to admit to himself how much she reminded him of Sara.

"Okay," he said finally, rubbing his hands over his face. "Okay. I believe you."

The boys sighed in relief, grinning at each other. Joyce smiled, putting her hand on his arm.

He continued, his next words bursting their bubble. "But the kid can't stay here."

"What?" shouted Mike and Will. Joyce stared at him questioningly.

Hopper continued, looking around at the boys. "The government, they know all of you kids snuck in to the lab to rescue her. They know your names, your addresses. It's only a matter of time before they start coming around doing interrogations. Searching houses."

"So where do we take her?" asked Nancy.

"I have a cabin up on Lakewood Drive," Hopper said, thinking fast. "I can take her there and she can lay low until the whole thing blows over."

Mike shook his head, quickly growing agitated. "No. No way. You had a gun pointed at her fifteen minutes ago. How do we know you aren't gonna sell her out?"

Hopper rolled his eyes. Teenagers were impossible. "Mike, you've gotta trust me. I'm not going to…"

"Next option," Mike said, crossing his arms and glaring at the chief.

Jonathan started pacing, thinking it through. "It's gotta be somewhere totally unconnected with any of our families. Somewhere they'd never suspect."

"Where, though?" asked Lucas. "We don't have all have secret hideouts lying around."

Suddenly Nancy spoke up. "I know a place. A… friend's house. His parents are out of town."

Jonathan and Mike raised their eyebrows, having a good idea what she was talking about. The others looked confused.

Hopper nodded, glancing between El and Nancy. "That could work. But you've got to take her there alone. The rest of the kids need to be back at home, acting like everything's normal, in case the special agents show up."

Mike shook his head again. "No way. I'm not leaving her. I promised I'd keep her safe."

Hopper let out an angry breath. "Kid…"

"Let him go along, Hop," Joyce said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "He'll look after her. He's a good one."

"Besides, he's a shit liar anyway," chuckled Dustin.

Mike felt the urge to argue but shrugged it away. "Come on El," he said, grabbing her hand. "Let's go with Nancy. We'll hide out for a little while."


End file.
